


The Ground Beneath My Feet is Falling Away

by SongAboutExiles



Series: Things That Stop You Dreaming [2]
Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015), Numb3rs
Genre: BDSM, Beneath That Mild Mannered Exterior, Charlie Is a Mess, Don Is an Asshole, Kingsman Is a Big Dysfunctional Family, Kink, M/M, Past Sexual Abuse, Percival is a BAMF, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-18
Updated: 2015-09-04
Packaged: 2018-03-31 02:24:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 29,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3960850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SongAboutExiles/pseuds/SongAboutExiles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry wanted his genius, and sent Percival out to fetch him. What he found in Charlie Eppes was a beautiful, broken mess holding himself together for his child and not much else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Most days, Charlie could pretend he was fairly normal. He wasn't, of course. In fact, he likely never would be. He'd made his peace with it, or he very nearly had.

Charlie also never had to set an alarm clock. Every morning, at precisely 6:30 am, the baby monitor crackled and he heard "Dada! Dada! DADDY!" in Maggie's ever-increasing two-year-old voice. He never expected it to be the best sound in the world (at least if he got to her before her insistence turned to miniature outrage), so he rolled out of bed most mornings to totter groggily down the hall with a smile on his face for his beautiful daughter with her great, intelligent dark eyes and mussy head of black curls.

This morning was a minor miracle. She was already up and out of her toddler bed, sitting on the floor and playing with her blocks, arranging them in numerical order then removing the non-primes. Like father, like daughter. He swooped her up in his arms and hugged her, much to her indignation. "Good morning, my love." 

It was a brief hug since she really didn't tolerate long ones well, and then he set her back down and arranged a multiplication problem with her blocks while he got her more advanced set out of her closet. It had been six months since he'd noticed the first signs that she was like him, and he remembered feeling unaccountably sad.

Had his gift not been a blessing?

Had he not saved lives with it?

Was it not a miraculous thing?

Was it not accompanied by an inability to relate to human beings? Was it not a source of constant friction between his parents? Was it not the wall that kept him alone for so, so long? Was it not the reason governments wanted to own his mind for themselves and damn the consequences? Was it not why his brother hated him?

As he'd done countless times, Charlie had picked himself up off his mental floor after the realisation, and had determined that he would Do Things Differently for his beloved, brilliant Maggie. All of the lessons that had come at so high a price for him, he would translate for her and teach to her gently. And, above all, he would never, ever let her be used. 

Charlie found that she'd multiplied the two three digit numbers perfectly correctly, and he kissed the top of her head and sat down on the rug with her. There'd be no point in suggesting breakfast or cartoons or anything else until her head had quieted. He knew that from personal experience. So he just sat across from her and gave her problems to solve for over an hour while every cell in his body craved coffee. 

She never missed a single one of them, not even by one digit. 

He'd need to find a school for her soon. The experimental school run by Cambridge for the children of its faculty was incredible, but she would outstrip even their ability to teach her in, he figured, another six months, and her vocal abilities, so long delayed, were finally starting to take hold.

At long last, Maggie sat up and said quite succinctly, "I'm hungry." 

"I bet you are, you've done a lot this morning." Charlie stood and held his hand out to her. She took it and toddled to her feet, letting him change her and run a soft brush through her wild hair. He always made sure she didn't look like she came from a household with only one male, eccentric, unfashionable parent even if he was a bit of a disaster himself. 

They were in the middle of scrambled eggs and toast when the doorbell rang. At any point that was relatively rare--his colleagues and students dropped by from time to time, but none of them would be doing so at 8:30 on a Saturday morning. A stab of anxiety went through his gut, and he gathered Maggie onto one hip and looked through the peephole. 

A man of middling height, not much taller than Charlie, in an expensive bespoke suit and glasses was standing there, hands folded in front of him, waiting patiently. At the FBI, all of Don's friends had taught him basic survival tips. Colby had been the one to help him tell unerringly if someone was wearing a gun concealed under a suit or jacket. This man was. 

"I'm afraid I don't have a badge to flash at you, but I assure you I mean you no harm, Doctor Eppes." The man leaned in so he didn't have to shout to be heard. 

Charlie opened the door a fraction, angling his body so that Maggie was hidden behind it. "I don't trust badges, but I don't trust strangers either." Even ones that looked on the surface like well-turned, well-heeled management types. "Why are you here?"

"I'm here to offer you a job, Doctor Eppes." The man subtly looked from side to side, then smiled, which transformed him from blandly attractive to handsome. "One best not discussed on the street." 

"I have a very good job, as I'm sure you're well aware. Look, I don't work for the U.S. government anymore, and I'm not interested in working for the British, either." Charlie knew, of course, exactly how many people had showed up on his doorstep offering him a job, but for brevity's sake he'd round it up to a 'hell of a lot.' 

"Then it's a very good thing I'm not here representing a government. Or a criminal organization, or a corporation...which, I suppose, technically could be the same thing. May I come in?" The man had a slightly befuddled air about him that made him somewhat...attractive? No, certainly not. Charlie didn't do that anymore.

"No, I'm sorry, but you can't." He wouldn't risk Maggie around this stranger. "But if you give me a compelling reason, I'll arrange to meet you at noon at my chambers." 

"Ah, of course. The compelling reason has as much to do with the little girl you're hiding behind the door as it does anything else. We can offer you two things for your daughter: absolute security, and the education she needs to thrive." 

Definitely compelling reasons. "Fair enough. Noon. What should I call you?" 

"You can call me Iain Morgan." It was even his real name. Charlie could tell by the way his face moved, its proportions telegraphing the veracity of his offer. 

"I'll see you then." Charlie shut the door abruptly, mind whirring. No, the man hadn't been lying, and he hadn't been a danger to them. That much, he could be sure of. Maggie had had quite enough of being held, and demanded to be put down. He made her say 'please' and then let her roam wild in the kitchen with some pots and pans, listening to her absently counting in her little singsong voice while he did the breakfast dishes. 

Annabelle from next door was only too thrilled to stay with Maggie for awhile. With her green hair and lip rings, she tended to alienate the other oh-so-proper families in his neighbourhood, but Charlie was from barbarian California and barely noticed. Maggie liked her, and that was a rare enough thing that he was happy to be one of her only paying babysitting customers. 

It was a short bike ride into the college, but Charlie relished the chance for a little speed and freedom. Driving the car in most mornings seemed so wasteful, even if it was an electric, but he'd be damned if he trusted those baby seat things for bikes. They nearly gave him cardiac arrest when they were carrying someone else's kid. 

He got there at five til noon and found Iain Morgan already waiting for him, just as patiently as he had at the door. "Doctor Eppes. Thank you for agreeing to see me." He held out a hand and Charlie took it, feeling hopelessly out of sorts around such a well put-together individual. Was his hair a mess? It was probably a mess from the bike ride. Why did it even matter?

"Your offer caught my interest, but I'm sure that's what it was calculated to do." Charlie led Iain into the inner room, and took a seat behind his cluttered desk. "Please." He nodded to the other chairs. "What I don't understand is why you came to my home, where my daughter is, on a weekend morning wearing a gun under your jacket."

Iain smiled suddenly, that transformative smile. "I rather like you. How could you even tell? Our tailors are the best there are." No point in denials, this one was obviously too observant.

"I was taught by the best." By a beautiful man who tried to save him, and failed miserably for his troubles. 

"Quite. What I'm about to tell you, Doctor Eppes, is highly classified. I know you have top clearance from the NSA, FBI, CIA, MI-5 AND 6, and a smattering of other agencies besides, but this level of classification trumps them all." Iain crossed his legs and settled back in his chair. 

"I thought you said you weren't with a government agency." Charlie was intrigued, and absolutely crap at hiding his emotions. He just wasn't capable of artifice. 

"I'm with an organisation called Kingsman. We were created in response to the horrors of the First World War, and are an extra-governmental, multinational surveillance and response group. We are above governments and their squabbles. We are the new knights, and we sit the new Round Table." Iain pressed his lips together, obviously aware it sounded faintly ridiculous even though he'd made the speech many times, most recently to the newly minted Lancelot. 

 

"Oh." Charlie's brow creased and he got up to pace, shoving a few chalkboards out of the way until he found the one that he wanted. "This is the Valentine scheme." In pure, almost beautiful numbers. Iain knew enough high-level maths that he could identify the spot where Charlie had defined all of the various players -- world governments, corporations, the powerful and wealthy of the world -- and then see where they were being manipulated in the equations. But there was one that was simply labeled 'x' that had no definition. "This was Kingsman, wasn't it? You stopped it. I've been trying to solve for that part of the equation for months, ever since it happened and something just didn't add up for me." 

"It's hard to leave the work behind, isn't it?" Iain asked softly, trying very hard to even begin to follow the fucking poetry he was looking at, not to mention the calculations on the board. "There's something about being the one to see the big picture."

"But that life, Iain, I can't go back to it. I have Maggie now, and you know that families are always in danger." Of course Charlie missed it, missed using his gift for good, to save lives instead of sitting back and watching horrors like the Valentine massacre just happen. 

"Your father died last year -- sincere condolences, Doctor Eppes -- and your mother passed some years ago. Your brother is quite secure in his position as a director at the FBI. Your daughter's mother is in India, and you are divorced." The fact that Charlie hadn't spoken a word to Don since the funeral went thankfully unmentioned, as did the reason for the divorce. "Which of course leaves your beautiful daughter to protect. We understand that she is a wonder, much like her father."

"I'm not exactly comfortable with how much you seem to know about my family." Charlie was fine with the litany, even with mentioning his father's death, but the moment Maggie came up his hackles raised.

"Take it as an example of how well we do our jobs. I was assigned to recruit you, and I do not take such things lightly. You both are non-combatants; you must be protected at all costs if you work with us." Iain uncrossed his legs and leaned over toward the desk, where Charlie had finished pacing. "We have resources that other organisations cannot even dream of."

"Tell me what you would do, and what I would do in return." Simple terms.

"We would move you, first of all, into one of several small, concentrated areas of London we have secured for our high-ranking personnel. All of your domestic help--nanny, housekeepers, et cetera--would be in the employ of Kingsman, quite capable of defending your household should anything happen. Your daughter would be under the watchful eye of trained agents when you are not there, and when you are, your security detail will withdraw to close outside surveillance."

"You're not really selling this, you know, you're sort of scaring the hell out of me."

"Think about it, Doctor Eppes. This is the level of protection you **should** have had when you were working for other covert organisations--the NSA, MI-5, Mossad. But you didn't. Your family was left in the wind. We simply do not tolerate that kind of sloppiness at Kingsman." They ran a tight ship, and had a care for their own that generally was lacking at government covert agencies. Oh, they all had 'walls of heroes' or some such, but who looked out for their families. If Lee Unwin had been admitted to their halls before he died, his family would have wanted for nothing. Indeed, Harry had argued long and passionately about an exception, but Arthur had refused.

"I can see that. Don and I were always worried about our father, and I was so worried about Maggie that I left intelligence altogether." Charlie ran a hand through his tangled curls and hitched a hip on the edge of the desk. "You mentioned Maggie's education."

"We run a school, one where the curriculum is tailored to each child's strengths. Our agents tend to brilliance, and so do their offspring, so we have right now another maths prodigy --though not so adept or so young as your daughter from what I understand-- a physics genius, a brilliant writer, an eidetic, several polylinguals...you get the picture. The school is in the center of one of our blocks, with direct evacuation route by underground train to Kingsman headquarters. She would even be starting the early childhood program with the sister of one of our newer agents. Perhaps they'll be friends." 

"You paint a picture of one big, happy family. How did Kingsman fare after the Valentine massacre? You stopped it, but did it sap your resources?" Charlie knew better than to accept what he was told at face value, even if the face was...well, decidedly nice to look at.

"We suffered a few grievous losses, but we emerged from the ordeal better off than one might think. We run differently than other agencies--everything we use, we make ourselves. No Valentine technology, so no disasters like that one at the CIA." Embarrassing, all those analysts rioting around Langley. "Telephones, computers...the lot. All bespoke, as it were." Just like their trademark suits. "That way, we are absolutely assured of security and quality." 

"And you want me to..." The one remaining question. Charlie was impressed with what he'd heard. It was like they'd reached into his head and plucked out all the security vulnerabilities he'd always seen at other agencies and addressed them in typical British fashion--with precision and a gloomy pessimism regarding the capabilities of anyone other than themselves. 

"Our new leader, our Arthur, is adamant that we improve safety outcomes for our agents in the field. He's read about your work, and he believes it might be possible for you to help us catch threats earlier, obtain better pictures of likely resistance points, just...bring our people home and help them get their jobs done." In truth, Percival had only a vague idea of how on earth one adorably dishevelled mathematician was supposed to do that, no matter how brilliant, but Harry had indeed been very certain. So certain it was his first official call as Arthur, from his home where he was still undergoing therapy and getting his feet back underneath him.

"And if you don't have the right systems in place, I can build what I need?"

"You and Merlin, yes, you'll build anything you need. Unlimited budget." 

"This is a full time job, yes, not just a consultancy?" Because Charlie was tired of being a consultant here, a guest lecturer there. He wanted a place to simply be, and be accepted, and be stable enough to get his life back from the ruin wrought by all those people who were supposed to love him. As if on cue, his back tightened across old scars, poorly healed, and he bit his lower lip. It shouldn't feel so good when it hurt. He knew that.

"Absolutely. You'll be a part of our family. You'll have a place at the table." It was a snarky, foul-mouthed family with an assortment of personality disorders, but it was a family. It was as simple as that.

"I'll need to see it for myself. Your headquarters. Speak to the people I'll be working with. If everything is as you say, I will accept your offer." It sounded too good to be true, and he knew that he might be naive to even listen. But what if it was real? What if he could have meaningful work again, and Maggie could be raised in safety, with her gifts honed properly? It was worth a chance.

"We expected that. Can you arrange for someone to watch Maggie tomorrow?" Percival got to his feet and went to stand by Charlie. There was something about the younger man that made his protective instinct wake up and say hello. The ridiculous dark eyes, the curls just begging to be wrapped around a gentle, firm fist, quieting the fractious noise in his mind, his fidgeting body. Oh yes, there was something about Charlie that fascinated him. 

It wasn't Charlie's imagination that there was a hint of deeper authority in Iain's voice, and he knew he swayed into it, just the tiniest bit, in pure instinct. "Yes, I can. When do we leave?" 

"I'll pick you up at nine." Oh yes, just a bit more authority, and look what it was doing.

"I'll be ready." Charlie had to bite his tongue not to add 'Sir' to that and thoroughly humiliate himself. 

"It's been a pleasure, Doctor Eppes." Iain held out his hand, and gripped Charlie's just a hair too long, testing the waters and finding them warm but nervous.

"Please, call me Charlie." Charlie bit his tongue again. _No, you can't go around calling handsome men 'sir' just because they've got a bit of authority about them. And you can't be that person again, no matter what._

"And you'll call me Iain." Not you **can** call me Iain, rather you **will**. "I'll see you in the morning."

This time Charlie just nodded, and when Iain was gone he collapsed back into his chair. "I think I want him," he whispered to the empty room, shaking his head. "Oh God, no."


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlie has a proper job interview, Kingsman style, and metaphors are horribly abused.

Charlie had to keep reminding himself this was not a date, it was a job interview. He'd spent thirty minutes in front of his closet, lamenting that it consisted entirely of one 'funeral suit' and an assortment of jeans, tee shirts, slightly wrinkled button-downs and a couple of jackets that had seen better days. 

Maggie was no help either. She sat playing on the floor of his room with her blocks, proudly naming colors as he held up shirts for her opinion. _I'm asking a two year old about my wardrobe choices. I need adult company._ His father or even Larry would have been able to get him at least to 'decently attired' status, but alone he never stopped dressing like a grad student. 

In the end, he managed a solid, heathered green tee shirt, an overshirt whose plaid at least had something close to the same color in the mix, and his best pair of jeans. Thank God he had a pair of lace up shoes, but after putting them on he realised they looked ridiculous and switched them out for a pair of newish trainers. 

Maggie just laughed at him and asked for her iPad, or rather her maths app. She wasn't interested in the glitzy, flashy games, she just wanted to play with the numbers, and she was still engrossed in it when Annabelle arrived to watch her.

**

Iain wasn't having the same wardrobe issues, but he found himself a bit nervous as well on the way to pick up Charlie. There was no doubt in his mind that the man would take them up on the job, and from what he'd seen in Charlie's office, there was also no doubt he was everything Arthur was hoping he would be and more. It was a good match, and he had the sense that Charlie needed the support and stability Kingsman could provide for its civilian personnel. 

No, what preyed on his mind was the very unexpected attraction he'd felt for Doctor Charles Eppes. He knew, as surely as he knew Charlie would take the job, that someone had badly, maybe catastrophically, mistreated the man in the most intimate of ways. It was a myth that Doms could sense a sub a mile away, but when the sub advertised submission in every line of his yearning body it didn't take super powers to spot. 

Charlie needed...well, he just needed. Iain saw him craving that firm hand with every fibre of his being, but fearing that need so deeply it spoke of years of abuse. And there was nothing that made Iain angrier than an abusive top. Nothing made him feel more humble than when another human being handed himself over, body and soul, to him with absolute trust. Doms who took that trust and twisted it were abhorrent. 

But did he have it in him to undo all of the bad work done on Charlie? Should he even begin to try?

It would have to be a labour of love, he decided, as the car pulled up to Charlie's. And that would take time, and patience, and Charlie may not even be able to take the first step. A delicate dance awaited him, and he smiled as he contemplated it. He did so love a challenge. 

When he knocked at the door this time, it opened immediately to Charlie, once more holding Maggie but not hiding her, dressed like a Californian university professor. _Something will need to be done, here, clearly._ Charlie was trying to hide behind the too-big, slightly shabby clothes. Maggie was wearing a perfect little sundress and had her hair in pigtails, so Charlie could dress her just fine. It was his own body he was trying to lock away.

"Good morning, Charlie. And how do you do this lovely morning, Miss Maggie?" Iain smiled and offered her a hand, which she stared at in confusion before attempting to high-five like she would with her father. 

"Good morning, Iain. Maggie, can you say 'Hello' to Iain?" She grabbed his hand and folded down each of his fingers--one two three four five--and managed a mumbed "'lo" before Charlie put her down. She immediately ran off to the kitchen, where Annabelle was fixing a snack.

"That was high praise, actually." Charlie closed the door behind him and gave the traditional London taxi a look as he climbed in. "It's her way of saying hello even if she can't get the word out--she does it rarely." Mostly she didn't bother with people outside her immediate circle. Something else that worried Charlie, that he was hoping this new school would help with. 

"Forgive me for asking, but is she on the spectrum?" Iain settled beside Charlie, who so clearly was on the spectrum, and unbuttoned his suit jacket.

"I haven't had her tested and I don't plan to for quite some time. Those tests are...well, she's only two and a half, and she had some speech delays because she sees the world like I do, in numbers. It can be hard to learn to translate what we see into words we can say." Charlie shrugged. "I want to give her time."

"Do you really? See the world like in numbers...how? How do you see me?" Iain was unbearably intrigued.

"Um, this is going to sound really weird, so...well, you already know I'm weird, that's why you want to hire me, so I guess there's no point in apologising. When I look at you, I see the proportion of your facial features to each other, the exact length of your hair, the angle of your cheekbones, the width of your mouth. Once I learned about people, I could use that perception to tell if someone was lying. I know exactly how fast this car is going, how far we've traveled, how far between that last street lamp and this one," he gestured out the window. "Aren't you glad you asked?"

"Actually, I am. It's fascinating, but it must also be terribly exhausting sometimes." Iain couldn't even fathom the mental work that must go into just moving about in the world for Charlie. 

"It's...it took me a really long time to figure things out, but working with the FBI did a lot to hone what few social skills I have. I even wrote books on the mathematics of friendship, and felt like a giant fraud because when I left the FBI, I left all my friends behind." 

"That took a great deal of courage, to come here and start over with a young infant." Iain opened a back panel on the seat in front of him and revealed a thermos and cups. "Tea? It's just under an hour to our nearest train station." 

Charlie nodded and took a cup, sipping and finding it perfect. "Thank you. And yes, I...babies and I aren't exactly a natural combination. I loved her from the second I saw her, but I had to read almost every book out there to figure out what to do. Thankfully, I had my dad for those first few months or I would have ended up putting four diapers on her because of their relative structural soundness and absorbency." He quirked a little smile, one of the first Iain had seen from him. 

"His loss must have been shattering. Again, my condolences." If Iain wasn't hooked before, that smile would have landed him for sure.

"At least it was sudden. My mother suffered for a long time before she passed." And he hadn't been able to sit in the hospital and watch. He'd wanted to solve P vs NP for her, as her legacy, because it was Margaret Eppes among all the people in the world who understood him. And she did. His father was still struggling with comprehending his strange offspring up until the day he died, and Don...Donnie found other ways to understand him. He shivered and gripped the cup tighter, torn between wanting to move a little closer to Iain and wanting to crowd his body into the far corner. But he did neither. 

The struggle was only too clear, and Iain had to wonder what was going on inside that brilliant head. He may never understand the math, but Iain had a growing, burning need to understand the man. "My father died when I was a teenager. Sent me off the rails for quite some time. He was a Kingsman--it's a bit of a legacy in my family--and I hated the organisation, my parents, my trainers and teachers, and myself. I really hated that my mother was proud that he'd died so bravely." 

"Ouch. Yeah, I can see where that might not be too helpful a thing to say to a grieving kid." Charlie looked at him now, all polished and perfect. "But you came around, obviously." 

"I grew up. I looked at the world, looked at the work Kingsman did, and then allowed myself to be a candidate eighteen years ago when the old Percival retired. Retirement is rare among us, but it does happen." He offered his own wry grin. "Also, I was still very young and seduced by the thrill of it all. You'll see soon enough. All of the toys in the toybox you could possibly imagine, right there at your fingertips. Making decisions that save lives or make lives better. It's heady. And under our new Arthur, I think we'll be better, stronger, more...well, just...than ever before."

"Just. It really is like the storybooks, then. Justice for the weak and righteousness and all of that. Isn't righteousness a little bit of a two-edged sword, though?" Used to harm as well as heal.

"It can be. That's why we try to focus on the big picture. For example, it came to our attention that the second son of the king of one of the smaller fundamentalist Arab gulf states was a reformer. Also, quite, quite gay, but that's only collateral to the point at hand. This prince was away in the West for university, and he had always been his father's favourite. The elder son was threatened, so he kidnapped his younger brother and planned to behead him to show what happens to those who stray from the path." 

"And we never heard about this because..." 

"Kingsman rescued the younger brother, the older brother was disinherited and executed, and now that kingdom has a bright future. The new crown prince is already enacting laws, subtle ones, that are catching like wildfire."

"That's the kind of balance that Kingsman tries to maintain, then." Charlie stared out the window for a moment. "There are literally almost a million ways it could go wrong and end in the opposite outcome, but it was a chance worth taking." And a great deal to digest.

Iain knew when not to talk, so he let Charlie turn it all over in his mind and sipped his tea, watching the younger man surreptitiously out of the corner of his eye. Everything about him spoke of discomfort. He fidgeted and alternately pressed his back hard into the seat and lifted it away, switched his cup from hand to hand. In short, he was as opposite from Iain's own collected calm as it was possible to be. 

This was a young man who needed a fuck and a flogging, perhaps not in that order, but he needed it from someone he trusted, maybe even loved. He needed to be put on his knees and relieved of the burden of thought. Charlie needed what Iain could give him. 

The car pulled up to a nice townhome and they got out, walking a block around the corner to another doorway, where Iain used a complex multi-factor biometric identification system to enter. The foyer was a lift, and he chose the basement. 

"That is some very serious tech," Charlie said, looking over his shoulder at the now-closed lift door. "Retina, DNA, thumbprint...wow." He'd never seen all of those combined into one sensor. 

"Wow?" It made Iain grin. "I guess it is pretty 'wow.'"

And that made Charlie laugh. "You are so posh it hurts." 

"Guilty. And you're a scruffy Californian. I'll wager you that I can make you proper before you can make me American." That laugh, so sudden and surprised, sealed the deal for Iain. If Charlie's needs went unmet, it wouldn't be from a lack of trying on his part. 

"I won't even take that bet. I wouldn't want to see you any way other than the way you are right now." If Charlie had any idea how sweet that was, he clearly wasn't showing it.

"Are you accusing me of being bereft of surprises?" Iain moved a little closer to Charlie as the doors opened, herding him into the train amidst his wide-eyed stares.

"Never, you'll be surprising me for years to come at this rate." Charlie sat across from Iain and actually made eye contact. "Kingsman has its own private underground subway."

"Naturally." The doors closed and it took off like a shot, much to Charlie's delight. "Someone likes to go very fast."

"Oh yeah." Going very fast was almost as good as going under during a session for lifting the constant weight off his shoulders, the constant analysis out of his head. "You should get me on a rollercoaster some day." 

Charlie turned his head to watch the tunnel walls blur by, flushed a little in embarrassment. Or was it more? Iain found it utterly charming, no matter the reason for it.

"Perhaps I will. Actually, I find I very much want to do that. Would you consider coming with me on a day trip, when you can manage child care for an entire day?" Part of being an agent was knowing when there was an opening and taking it fearlessly. If he was missing out a bit on the fearlessness, well, no one need know.

That got Charlie's attention right back on Iain's face. "Are you asking me on a date?" 

"I am, yes. I want to watch you ride rollercoasters until you sick up or finally get enough." Iain smiled and tried to read the look on Charlie's face. 

"I want to say yes," Charlie began, obviously as a gambit to saying 'no.'

"Then yes it is." _Sorry, lovely, you're not talking yourself out of it._

"I can't. I...there are things about me. Trust me, Iain, you don't want to date me." The sadness on his face made Iain want to stroke back those curls and kiss Charlie's cheeks. 

"There's a darkness to you. I see it, Charlie." He wet his lips, unsure how much to give away of what he had actually seen. "I do understand what it is. You were speaking earlier about telegraphing, telling lies from the way the proportions of a person's face changes. When it comes to a very specific subset of behaviours, of needs, I can read body language, too." 

The 'oh shit' look on Charlie's face made him think he'd overreached. "Oh God, you...I...I can't do it again, Iain."

"Ride rollercoasters?"

"Because I need rollercoasters so much it eats me alive and I am not...healthy. In my head." 

"Sometimes, the ride can be thrilling but leave you sick and broken," Iain murmured in response. "But I don't believe in leaving a person sick and broken." 

Charlie flushed deep red under his olive skin. "I believe you wouldn't. But you're a good man, Iain, you don't need to start...taking me to rollercoasters. You need a healthier hobby."

"I don't expect us to hop on a rollercoaster the moment we enter the gate." If they were going with this metaphor, he'd continue right along. "There's the whole trip there, there's getting the lay of the land, there's eating too much candy floss, there's all the other rides in the park. The rollercoaster certainly isn't going anywhere, now is it?"

Charlie smiled a little. "No, I suppose it isn't." He even leaned forward a little, hands twitching to reach out and touch Iain's. "But you have to really, really love rollercoasters, if you're going to date me." 

"I adore them. I love nothing more, actually, than watching the person I'm riding with go out of their heads with the dark, fierce joy of it." And maybe the metaphor was breaking down, but Iain didn't care. He made the move to reach out and take one of Charlie's small, long-fingered hands in his. "But I also believe that sitting next to someone on that rollercoaster takes trust, and that doesn't just spring from nothing. So come with me, and we'll get in the rollercoaster queue when the time is right." 

"What if you don't like what you see inside me?" Charlie asked, fingers fidgeting till he relented, allowing the touch. The metaphor fled entirely. "It's not lovely."

"So you say." He would say differently.

"Just so I understand, we're still going to a literal amusement park to ride real rollercoasters? Because I'm very much on board." Charlie pressed his lips together, then found another smile for Iain.

"Yes. Literal park, literal rides. Next chance we get when I'm not on assignment and you can get a sitter for whole day." Oh, that smile. It was deadly.

**

Iain was quite sure that whomever built the underground bunker levels at HQ designed them on purpose so that anyone new to the organisation would have to march past the hangar on the way to just about anywhere else. If anything made jaws drop, it was the vast assortment of jets, choppers and ground vehicles on display. 

Charlie stopped, cocked his head. "This is quite a feat of engineering, given the geology of the area and the size of the structure." 

"Most people just say 'oooh, toys.'" Iain grinned, a little proud even though Charlie was not in the least his protege.

"Sorry. Oooh, toys." Charlie grinned back. "Better?"

"Much. Now come along, Merlin's waiting for you." They passed through the control room itself, and into the analyst bullpen. There were screens full of satellite photos, schematics, news feeds and cryptographs they were working on deciphering angling downward from the perimeter of the room, which had twenty-four workstations, about half of which were full at the moment. 

"I actually do feel like I'm going to see the wizard. You all do the impressive thing well," Charlie murmured, eyes darting from one screen to another, starting with a mission parameters summary and then moving seemingly at random. 

"Don't call him that, his ego's big enough," Iain murmured back, leading him through desks and chairs while Charlie was distracted by what he was seeing. 

"So you must be Doctor Eppes." Merlin was a bigger man than Charlie imagined, taller than Iain and downright imposing. "Percival and Arthur have both been singing your praises." 

"I...I hope that I can live up to their descriptions. I'm sorry but is this a mission that's ongoing right now? Can I get access to a whiteboard and one of those clipboard thingies?" Charlie was thoroughly distracted but there was a worried little frown between his eyebrows. 

Merlin lifted one of his own eyebrows, but he nodded. "Eamon, get Doctor Eppes a pair of glasses and a clipboard." He went to a large screen that seemed blank and swiped his hand over it, then picked up a stylus from his desk and waited for the young man to scurry back with a pair of glasses and what seemed to be an ordinary clipboard. 

"Put these on." Merlin handed the glasses to Charlie, who promptly did as told and blinked several times in amazement. "Wow. Can I have the stylus?" Iain handed it to him, and then he went to the screen that actually a giant computerised whiteboard. Everyone wearing the glasses, which was everyone in the room, could see Charlie filling it rapidly with equations, glancing at the intel on the board. He drew a blank rectangle at the bottom of the board and deciphered the encrypted message they hadn't been able to crack, filling up the space with a status report from the enemy, detailing troops and assignments in poorly-spelled but readable form. 

"Your agent...is it Kay?...is going to need backup pretty much...now." Charlie looked over at Merlin, clearly worried. "They have twice the boots on the ground you think they do." He pulled the schematics onto to the board and marked their probable location, noting each with a degree of probability variable from n. 

Charlie started a little at the applause from the bullpen, and saw Iain and Merlin grinning. "See, I told you," Iain bragged a bit to Merlin, taking the piss, and Merlin elbowed him back. 

"That operation happened last week, and you are absolutely right. Kay got in over his head and we had to send in Lancelot with a strike team to get him out. We got lucky that time, but I bloody hate relying on luck." Merlin reached out a hand to Charlie. "You have the job, if you want it." 

Charlie shook his hand, his own a little shaky as he came down from the adrenaline rush. "I want it. Just...you know that sometimes I'm wrong? The FBI used to think I was an actual computer and couldn't make mistakes, and sometimes I do." Not often, but when lives were on the line, it mattered.

"I'm aware that you are not in fact a computer but a person, Doctor Eppes. What we expect is your best effort, and for you to voice immediately if you believe there is a chance you could be wrong about something. The point here is to have more intel, more insight. Only a fool thinks in terms of absolutes when out in the field, and we do not employ fools." Merlin looked at him sternly, but for all the obvious badassery in evidence in the older man, Charlie still felt himself warming up to him.

"Call me Charlie? And I have to arrange for my classes to be covered for the rest of term..."

"Done." Merlin smirked.

"Pack up my house?"

"Will be done."

"Well, in that case, when do I start? Since you seem to be the one arranging my life now." Charlie quirked a grin.

"You need to choose a flat, and transition your daughter into her new school. I understand that change is something she isn't terribly fond of. I think mid-week should do if you needn't worry about the domestic details." If Charlie was going to trust these people with his 'domestic details' then that seemed pretty realistic.

"I think I need to sit down." Because this was a lot to process, and Charlie wasn't exactly fantastic with change himself. 

"Come on, I'll take you to the canteen for a cup of tea." Percival put a hand on Charlie's elbow, looking over at Merlin, who smirked again.

"Arthur called it."

"Shut up, you." But Iain was grinning as he got Charlie out of the crowded space. Late morning on a Sunday found the canteen nearly empty, and he sat Charlie down and came back with two mugs of tea and some biscuits. 

"So that...happened. The world's most nerve-wracking job interview." He'd really thought lives were on the line that second. 

"If you think that's bad, wait till you see what new agents have to go through. It's a multi-month process just to select the one who'll be a Kingsman." Iain drank his tea, and Charlie went for the biscuits. 

"I'm suddenly glad that I'm not an agent. You went through all of that, then? To get selected?" Charlie fiddled with the biscuit, halving it and then halving it again. "Are all of them as extraordinary as you?"

"You haven't even seen the things I'm capable of." 

"Which reminds me--I'll need to see footage of agents in action. I actually do need to know exactly what you are capable of, in order to make accurate models." Charlie finally ate his now eighth of a biscuit and drank some tea.

"I'm sure Merlin's already thought of that, but if not just ask him. He really doesn't bite--it's that gruff Scots thing." Iain watched Charlie, a bit fascinated because he was just so...odd. Odd but wonderful, like an exotic bird that's a bit gawky but has beautiful plumage.

"Oh, I've done gruff. I can tell he's a good guy. Are we heading back after this? Or do you have something else planned?" 

"You need to see the tailors in possibly the worst way. If we see them today, you'll have new clothes before you get started. I don't think a suit for you, though...something more casual but more upscale than what you're used to."

"I know I'm scruffy, but geeze..." Charlie blushed. "I've just had more important things to think about the past couple of years."

"Don't get all wound up. The fabric is armour." That would do for an excuse, but the reality was just as much that Iain wanted to see this beautiful man shine the way he deserved to, not hidden away behind ill-fitting clothes and a terrible haircut. Or lack of haircut, more accurately. "It's all a bit of a process, but we consider ourselves gentlemen, and that comes with certain...accessories. Like good clothes." 

"And a haircut. Just...not too short, I look like a poodle." Charlie figured out quickly that they wouldn't stop with the clothes. 

"No, I like your hair longer." Iain leaned over the table. "It makes me want to touch." Feel those curls trip over his fingers as he tightened them to pull the younger man into a kiss, or urge him down to his knees. 

"...Oh." Charlie looked over at Iain from under his dark lashes. "Then we'll leave it long."

_Of course we will, because you want me to touch you._ It was so patently obvious, and yet Iain knew he couldn't rush. Couldn't demand. Could only gently nudge.

Nudge, and watch with delight as Charlie allowed himself to be moved, one inch at a time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are fantastic, as always. I wasn't sure anyone would be on board with this ride, but you've surprised me! <3 I should put a 'slow burn' tag on this one, but it seems like every time I do that, the sexing starts immediately.


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlie has a very bad dream, a very wonderful first day at work, a new friend, a new boyfriend, and the chance to tell Iain the truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special warning for this chapter. This is where we really immerse ourselves in Evil!Don and the things he did to his baby brother (*points to the sibling incest tag*). I have the hardcore stuff blocked off in asterisks per a few readers' requests, but if you are especially queasy about such things, jump ship when Iain and Charlie start their big Talk. Trigger warnings for sexual abuse.

********************************************  
The sting of the single-tail was a bright, sharp line of red against the grey haze of Charlie's mind. He didn't even process the feeling as pain, not even when Donnie laid down four more blows. Not even when his skin split, bled into the leather. The scent of damp leather and copper filled his nose, added to the bliss that was each single lash. 

Only five this time, because Charlie hadn't been very good. He'd started an argument with Donnie over the last case, and his brother wasn't pleased. And when Donnie wasn't pleased, Charlie was certainly not going to be either. There were no soothing words, no 'you're such a good baby boy for me', nothing. Just silence and pain.

Don threw the whip aside and stalked forward, grabbing Charlie's hips bruisingly tight and shoving his big cock inside with only the preparation that his little brother knew how to give himself--push down, take it, breathe. This kind of pain was never pleasure, it was always exactly what it said on the tin. It said 'this piece of flesh is mine to use and discard as I please.' 

"This worthless slave will **not** talk back to me again in front of my team," Don growled, and Charlie felt tears in his eyes. Not from the pain, not from the blood, from disappointing his big brother. 

"This one is so, so sorry, Master!" Charlie whispered, unsure if he had permission to speak. 

"It certainly is." One of Don's hands grabbed Charlie's throat and squeezed hard, cutting off his air. "It's a pathetic disappointment." 

Don took his time, only letting Charlie breathe enough to keep him conscious as he was fucked hard and deep...  
***********************************************

And then Charlie woke with a strangled cry, trying to get enough air in his lungs, his back burning, his mind jumbled. Where was he, what was he doing, **who** was he? The dark bedroom spun, and slowly Charlie got his bearings. He was in his new flat. Maggie was asleep down the hall. 

He was safe, thousands of miles from his brother. 

He was also, much to his eternal shame, hard as a rock. Curling up onto his side in a miserable ball, Charlie tried to just let the sensations flow through him. If he was going to jerk off, and he tried to do it as infrequently as possible, it was not going to be to that memory. Not to the memory of the night when he'd wondered, dimly, if Donnie was actually going to kill him. 

Shaking hard enough to make his teeth rattle, Charlie peered out of the covers at the bedside clock, even though he had no use for it. He knew it was 4:37 AM. No point in even trying to sleep, although he could have done without the nightmares the night before his first day on the new job. 

The new flat had come with a lovely en-suite master bathroom, with a separate large shower and tub. He hated to christen it like this, sliding out from under the duvet and padding in wearing pyjama pants and a tee shirt. His gaze averted from his body in the large mirror as he stripped off, especially the mess of raised keloid scars on his back. Those scars had cost him so much. Charlie took a deep breath and got into the shower with it blasting cold as fucking Hades on his already-shivering flesh.

_If Iain ever saw me naked, what would he think? Would it be pity or disgust?_

That train of thought didn't do nearly enough to distract himself from the stinging blast of icy water. As his erection faded, he turned the heat up slowly, until it was comfortable, and he washed his newly-trimmed hair and used enough conditioner to tame the curls. 

There was plenty of time to make coffee and settle down with one of his side projects for awhile, until 6:30 and his daughter's internal alarm clock sounded. Now school, that was something to be excited about. Charlie went to fetch her with a big smile on his face, and distracted her with breakfast before she went too far down the rabbit hole with her blocks or her iPad. 

By the time he'd wrangled her into her wee navy and green plaid uniform and packed her bag, it was time to leave. He checked himself one more time to make sure no untoward baby residue had gotten onto his own new clothes--the jacket, jumper and tailored jeans were so soft and comfortable that he could scarcely believe they were made of bulletproof material. But then again, so were Maggie's uniforms. It was a sobering thought.

At the same time, he was happy for the protection, and a little dismayed that no one else he'd ever worked for had thought of his or his family's safety. And then there was the fear that Kingsman believed this was necessary at all. 

The school was only two blocks from his new flat, and Maggie insisted on walking 'the whole way' which was really roughly half the way but it didn't matter. Charlie settled her slight weight on his hip and leaned in at the vestibule to undergo the multi-factor biometric authentication. He was buzzed right in to a light, airy central foyer, where another man, surely not out of his early twenties, was standing with a little blonde girl roughly Maggie's age. The young man was wearing a proper Kingsman suit, and he must be the one who's sister was starting the same day. 

"First day jitters?" the young man asked, holding out his hand.

"Me, or my daughter?" Charlie smiled and took the hand, shaking it firmly. 

"Either. Both. I'm dying over here." The smile was returned, and the little girl in his arms was eyeing Maggie out from under her long bangs. "My name is Eggsy Unwin. This is my sister, Daisy."

"Nice to meet you. I'm Charlie Eppes, and this is my daughter, Maggie. Maggie, can you say hello to Daisy?" Maggie didn't go quite that far, but she did giggle and hide her face in Charlie's jacket. 

"Oh my god, you're the genius Harry and Merlin can't stop goin' on about. It really is great to meet you. They said the Headmaster would be out in a moment to take them to their classroom. That means this is your first day, too?" Eggsy was such an obviously happy kid, and it was infectious. 

"Yeah, it is. That's where most of the jitters are coming from, honestly." Charlie had to laugh a little. 

"Ah, don't stress it. First day is mostly medical and paperwork. No lives on the line whatsoever." The arrival of a short, surprisingly young man in a suit with school colours tie cut him off. 

"Ah, you must be Doctor Eppes. And this must be Maggie." He held his hand out to her and watched her fold his fingers down. She'd be a fascinating challenge, that was for sure. 

"Daisy and I met a few moments ago, didn't we?" The Headmaster turned to Daisy and caught her ray-of-sunshine smile. "I think you two are going to be very happy here. And now, if you'll just come this way. I find it's best if they walk on their own." 

Both the men put their charges down a little guiltily, and they toddled off behind the Headmaster, who'd never actually given them a name. For all Charlie knew, 'Headmaster' was his code name. The one thing that Charlie had to say stood out about the school was its sense of calm order. Of course, the kids were all in class, but there was, for lack of a better word, peace here. 

The toddler classroom was not so quiet, as five other girls and boys and two teachers were starting the day with circle time. As soon as Maggie and Daisy entered, all talk stopped and the others got up to say hello, accepting their teachers' introductions like new kids start everyday. Charlie would bet that it was actually quite rare for a class this small to get two new students in a day. 

Charlie and Eggsy stayed just long enough to make sure that the good behaviour was 'sticking' before following the Headmaster quietly out of the classroom. "I can see what you mean by lots of individual attention. Two teachers to seven children is impressive." 

"I understand your Maggie needs that kind of attention, though. We'll get her sorted with the right maths tutors by the end of the week. We have several older students and other teachers who can supplement her curriculum." Headmaster turned to Eggsy. "And don't you worry about Daisy. We know this is her first experience in school and we'll make sure to ease her in as much as she needs." 

Both men were nodding along, and Charlie answered first. "Thank you. I'm really looking forward to seeing her finally fitting in somewhere." Even at the Cambridge school she'd been seen as a bit of a freak, and it broke his heart. 

Eggsy smiled. "D looked like she was just waiting for me to leave to start up the mischief. All right, Doctor Eppes, let's get you in for your first day, yeah?" 

They shook hands with the Headmaster again, then took the steps down to the lift that went to the train. It was actually a little crowded this time of the morning, and Eggsy chatted away like a friend he'd had forever. Charlie learned what to avoid at the canteen, who was a prat, and whatever else popped into his pretty head. 

"When we get there, I can take you round to where you need to be if you like." Eggsy grinned like it was nothing to offer.

"Thanks, a lot, but, um, Percival is meeting me at the train to see me through the process." Charlie wondered if he was blushing a little. He was, and he got a knowing grin in return. 

 

"Right, wouldn't want to be a third wheel, yeah?" he teased gently, and really Charlie couldn't see how you could ever get actually angry with Eggsy. 

"What's your code name?" Because this was all very fascinating, and he'd end up spending much of the next few days studying various agents and their styles, strengths and weaknesses. 

"I'm Galahad, mate." Just then, the train pulled into the station and Eggsy left with a bit of a bow and uncannily perfect timing. 

Charlie was still smiling when he found Percival waiting, impeccable as always. What he didn't expect was the way that Iain was staring at him, head slightly cocked, mouth open a bare fraction. That was a look of desire, and Charlie hadn't been out of the game so long he'd utterly forgotten it. 

It just floored him, was all. 

"You look absolutely gorgeous," Iain murmured, taking Charlie's hand and pulling him in just a bit as if they were shaking hands and nothing more. 

"I...I like all the clothes. I'm glad that you do, too," he whispered back, blushing. The blush couldn't be hid, especially among a bunch of spies. 

"I rather wish I could throw caution to the wind and take you to ride rollercoasters right this moment." Just...run away, where everything was simpler. Iain obviously wasn't prepared for the way Charlie's face fell. "I'm sorry, I've stepped in it, haven't I?"

"I just didn't have a good night. Still shaking it off, is all," Charlie reassured him, because even if it seemed an utter impossibility this morning that he could ever, ever let Iain become his lover, much less more, in the light of day with the man in front of him, he found it was a door he didn't want to close. 

"I'm sorry. I don't like the thought of you unhappy." Or waking up alone from bad dreams, for that matter. He reluctantly let Charlie's hand go because past a point you're not shaking hands you're holding hands, and led him toward the first of the day's appointments. 

"Where do we go first?" Charlie asked, trying to break the mood.

"Oh, you'll like it--we're going to get you all teched up. New mobile, your own glasses, clipboard, laptop, all the toys you'll need. You'll also get all the access to our mainframe for running large calculations." If that didn't bring a smile to Charlie's face, nothing would.

"You mean I don't have to fight, bargain or beg for mainframe access?" Yes, that was a look of utter delight on Charlie's face. "Oh my God, the things I could do!" 

"The only person you'll have to compete with is Merlin and the computing load of the organisation, and from what I understand it's all some kind of voodoo. They'll explain it all." Iain stopped in front of a nondescript door. "You'll be here for at least an hour. They'll call me when it's time to move you along. I have a mission briefing." 

"Oh...of course you go out on missions. I just hadn't thought of you in danger." Which was frankly stupid and naive. 

"I'll be fine. I promise. Now go on, and I'll see you soon." Iain left him to enter the door himself.

When he did, Charlie found himself in Wonderland for Geeks. The IT staff was efficient and friendly, and explained everything to him like he actually was one of them, which he may as well have been. They showed him everything, but since the interface was wildly intuitive he caught on so fast that the hour still wasn't quite up when the shoved all his new toys at him in a tasteful leather satchel that he suspected was also bullet-proof, like everything else around here. 

He waited the five minutes or so practicing with the glasses and the clipboard. With the glasses, the very walls of Kingsman HQ came alive. Just to see what would happen, Charlie queried Percival's whereabouts. Percival popped up as a small, moving dot rapidly approaching him. There was something reassuring about that dot, and even more reassuring when Iain rounded a corner to find him waiting.

"Sorry to have kept you. I'm guessing you blew through all the IT business in record time." Iain smiled and probably would have offered his arm to Charlie had they not been at work. Charlie might even have taken it. "The next stop is...fairly sensitive, so I won't be joining you. It's time for medical. Since you're not field personnel, your records will remain confidential, I just want you to know that."

A wave of anxiety swept over him, one he'd been battling ever since he'd heard about the exam and tests. "I just don't do well with some things." 

"I'd imagine not. But really, if you are uncomfortable with something, tell them. They can probably find a different way to do it. Also, I'd advise you to be honest when they ask you questions. You'll want to lie or evade, but I wouldn't if I were you. Trust me, working here, they've heard it all." 

"Maybe not all," Charlie whispered, but then he pushed open the door and went in, leaving Iain behind yet again. He could feel the man's eyes on him the whole time, on his back, like Iain could see through the clothes to the scarred, naked skin. 

Medical ended up not being the ordeal Charlie thought it might be. They just asked him to strip down to his undershirt and boxers for the exam, and the doctor who checked his heart and lungs from behind said nothing about the scars. After considering for a long moment, Charlie decided to be honest about having problems with both of his shoulders and one of his hips from dislocation. It could cause issues at some point, he supposed, so they should know.   
For all that the medical branch hadn't been awful, Charlie was still incredibly glad to see Iain waiting for him. Their eyes met, and Charlie blushed but didn't look away. "You were right, that wasn't terrible."

"No, they're not generally terribly invasive. I'm glad they went easy on you." Iain smiled, and reached up with his hand, immediately dropping it when he apparently realised he was about to touch Charlie's hair. "It's time for HR, then lunch. I can stay with you for this, if you want. Paperwork is dreadfully dull." 

"True. I'd love for you to stay, if I'm not keeping you from anything." Charlie followed Iain down the corridors, even though he'd already memorised them from schematics on the clipboard. 

"No, the rest of my diary today says 'squiring about Charlie Eppes,' so I'm afraid you're stuck with me." Iain looked over at Charlie. 

"Squiring? What does that even mean?" Whatever it was, it was hopelessly old-fashioned, Charlie was pretty sure.

"Oh, it's rather like courtship, where you take your intended to a series of parties or fetes for the season."

"Courtship? Are you courting me, Iain? Am I your intended?" 

"I am courting you. Has it happened so infrequently you don't recognise it? I find that hard to believe." Actually, Iain found it easy to believe from Charlie's shyness, but his beauty should have won him many admirers despite it. 

"I think we should probably talk, sooner rather than later." If Iain was developing real feelings for Charlie, then it couldn't wait much longer.

"Hm, I'm trying not to take that as a bad sign." They reached the HR department and went through yet another set of swinging doors to meet a terribly perky young woman who had a truly heroic amount of paperwork in the crook of her arm. 

"Hi, I'm Anna, and I'm here to help you get the most out of your time with Kingsman. Come on, let's get started!" Opportunities for conversation were few and far between while Anna was on the job, her perkiness hiding a ruthless efficiency as she explained all of the security protocols and penalties for breaking confidentiality agreements. There were a great number of perks, too, some of which Charlie had already experienced. The flat, the school, the wardrobe (or uniform, as she called it), all of it was a part of his compensation package. 

Lunch was mostly over in the canteen by the time Charlie and Iain made their way there, Charlie a little dazed over all the words. So many words. They got salads and sandwiches and settled in a deserted corner. 

"You do know that now you've brought up a Talk, I'm living in fear of it," Iain said, unwrapping his sandwich. "But that said, I understand that you still don't know me very well. You'll tell me, or not, on your schedule."

Iain was such a gentleman that it made Charlie melt a little. Melt, and ignore his food. "See, it's that kind of thing that just makes me want to bare my soul."

"I know someone's hurt you, and very badly." The older man looked at Charlie, catching his eyes again. 

"And I hurt someone, too. Very badly." Not in the same way, not physically, but... "I've made so many terrible choices, Iain." 

"So have we all. We're human. It's how we deal with those choices that define us most, I believe." Charlie was an expert at evading the truth because the truth was so awful, but Iain was an expert at getting to truth. "I see many good choices, as well, Charlie."

"I've tried." Charlie fussed with the salad container until he got it open. "I've tried to be a better man, a good father." Not just his brother's little whore. "You've probably guessed at this point how hard it is for me to talk about anything involving my past."

"I had made that observation." Iain smiled gently, and reached out to briefly touch Charlie's hand, for the barest moment, but it was enough to make the younger man blush again. His blushes were intoxicating.

"But I like you. Very much. I want to tell you, so you can decide if you even want to take me to the amusement park, much less onto the rollercoasters." Charlie wet his lips. "Would you come for dinner Saturday night? I'll be honest, completely, because I want you to make an informed decision."

"Charlie..." God, the man was heartbreaking. "You're not a torturous medical procedure, you're a beautiful man that I am growing very fond of. I don't need to sign informed consent forms to know that I want to take you anywhere you wish to go." 

"But you do. You need to know." His shame was so deep that he honestly couldn't fathom a scenario where a good man wouldn't run screaming into the night rather than so much as kiss him after **finding out**. Amita had said he didn't deserve love. She'd been hurting when she said that, and that was his fault, but she was probably right. "Will you come?"

"Of course I will, Charlie. What time, and what should I bring?" If Charlie felt so strongly about coming clean, Iain wouldn't argue. Besides, it was a chance to spend some precious time alone with him. 

"Seven, and wine, probably, if you like it. I tend to have beer around, and I'm a little bit awful at picking out good wine." Charlie quirked a tired smile. "However, I'm a really good cook if you don't mind kosher and food that comes in bowls." 

"I mind neither. I didn't know you were observant." Iain found it fascinating how open Charlie still was to the world and its mysteries despite everything.

"I keep kosher at home, and try to elsewhere, but being Jewish is more cultural for me than religious by a long shot. It's how I honour my parents' memory." 

"That's lovely, Charlie. You're lovely." And Iain couldn't stop staring.

"We'll see what you have to say about that Saturday night." 

"Yes, I fully expect to shock you." 

Charlie ate a bite of his salad and chewed slowly before answering. "I do startle easily." 

**

The next three days were a blur, but a happy one. At work, Charlie pored over every piece of intel on the agents and their capabilities he could get his hands on. That proved to be a completely incredible eye-opener. Galahad--did gravity even apply to him? The things he could do were literally impossible, as far as Charlie could tell. Lancelot was every bit as much of a badass, but with her own style that was much less like flowing water and much more like blunt force trauma.

Everyone was different, but equally deadly. Including Percival. God, Percival. It was hard to reconcile the gentle, funny, mannered man he knew with the killing machine he saw on the neverending mission footage. He was an infiltration specialist, especially adept at getting into highly secured, controlled spaces without raising alarm and killing very specific people with a minimum of fuss. Less gentleman spy, more gentleman assassin. 

Maybe that should be more alarming. No, it definitely should be more alarming. But one thing that Charlie had to give Kingsman--every mission he reviewed was well-conceived and very well-justified. And Percival was far less likely than some to leave occasional collateral damage. _Agent Peleas, I'm looking at you and Casablanca._ As a whole, Kingsman made collateral damage such a rarity it actually stood out. He didn't need the calluses he'd built up working for other covert organizations. 

So the man he was growing ever closer to killed people. Well, that was hardly new, now was it?

On the home front, Maggie was babbling constantly, and he was making out more intelligible words even in three days. She loved her school and practically ran in the door every morning. It was hard for him to remember that they were supposed to be learning decorum, and that he had they slow her down. They weren't going to be 'those Americans' if Charlie could help it. 

Saturday morning, Charlie decided it was past time he'd done a proper shop for the new flat, so he took Maggie to Haringey intending to explore some kosher markets. He ended up leaving by midday laden with bags, a sleepy toddler and several offers to find him a wife. Maggie slept on him on the tube, then amazingly transitioned into her nap at home with no problems.

That left Charlie to put away groceries and prep dinner. His parents were both excellent cooks, so Charlie decided to show off just a little, setting a marinara sauce to simmer while slicing up an extraordinary number of vegetables to for his lasagna and putting them in the fridge tossed with just a little salt to keep them from turning.

While the sauce simmered, Charlie caught up on one of his personal projects. Anything to keep the nerves at bay. He was painfully aware that after tonight, Iain might not want anything to do with him. But when your history is written on your skin and you have no desire or will to lie to a partner about how it got there...what other choice did he have but to tell?

Maggie woke up from her nap in a wonderful mood, playing with pots and pans in the kitchen and making an unholy racket while charlie finished the vegetable lasagna with marinara and bechamel sauces. And then there was nothing to do but wait. And drink a couple of beers while he played with Maggie because seriously...nervous. So nervous. 

His daughter toddled along after him as he went to answer the door when the knock came at precisely seven. Iain was there, dressed down in dark grey khakis with a deep blue lightweight jumper that set off his eyes dramatically. "I...you're not in a suit." Of course he wouldn't be, but Charlie was taken aback by how handsome he was in 'civilian clothes.' 

"I do take it off. Very occasionally. May I come in?" They were just hanging about the front stoop looking rather foolishly at each other. 

"Oh my God, yes, I'm so sorry." Charlie moved out of the doorway to let Iain in, taking the bottle of wine and noticing that he'd taken the trouble to find a kosher bottle. That wasn't easy. 

"It's quite all right." Iain smiled and handed over the wine, smiling a little sheepishly. "I didn't realize until after I'd got home from the vintners and googled that by handling the bottle I made it non-kosher."

"I'm not that strict," Charlie replied, going on pure instinct as he leaned up to kiss Iain's cheek. He could smell the other man's tasteful cologne, and beneath that the clean scent of his skin. He pulled back quickly, blushing. "Maggie, can you say hello to Iain?" 

Iain crouched down and smiled at the little girl, and she clung to her father's leg, peering out from behind and waving. "It's very good to see you again, Maggie." She regarded him with her huge dark eyes that were nearly a mirror image of her father's. 

"We've had quite a day." Charlie led them both into the kitchen to put down the wine and check on the lasagna in the oven, which was nearly ready to come out. "I'd say we have another thirty minutes until dinner's ready, but I still need to make a few things." 

"It smells wonderful. Would you like my help?" Iain surveyed the kitchen like a tactician on a battlefield, and that was just a bit more direction than dinner required. 

"If Maggie could show you her toys, it would be great if you could distract her for a few minutes until I finish up." Now distracting a toddler, that required tactics. 

"I think I can manage that." Sure enough, when asked Maggie nodded enthusiastically and made for the living room, which was rather a minefield. 

While they were occupied, Charlie made a salad and pulled out the lasagna to cool for a few minutes before cutting into. The wine was opened to breathe and he heard laughter coming from the living room, Iain's and Maggie's. It made him feel warm inside like nothing had in a long, long time. That was a sound he could get used to entirely too easily.

When he went to tell them dinner was ready, the ubiquitous iPad was out, but Iain had found a game they could play together, a simple updated version of Pong where they bounced a ball back and forth at increasing speeds. It satisfied Maggie's need to think in terms of angles and velocities and yet it got her interacting with Iain. Smart move. Her motor coordination couldn't keep up with her brain at her age, and the game made hilarious noises when she missed that kept her from being frustrated. 

"Hey, guys. Ready for food?" Charlie went over and crouched down, resting a hand lightly on Iain's shoulder. "Are you hungry, Maggie?"

"Yes!" she enthused, getting to her feet and heading toward the dining room.

"Never call that one late for dinner," Charlie said, smiling. "I'm so lucky she isn't a picky eater. She'll try just about anything."

"An adventurous spirit, just like her father." Iain found himself genuinely liking the fey, strange little girl, which obviously surprised him a bit. It wasn't like he'd have had much opportunity to be around children. 

"Yeah, my idea of adventure is forgetting my bike helmet at home and still going for a ride." Charlie laughed and hoisted Maggie up into her booster seat, fastening the buckles so she couldn't fall off. She'd hated high chairs, always wanting to do what her Daddy was doing, like sitting at the table. 

"And rollercoasters. The literal ones, of course." Because Iain would never discuss the figurative ones in front of Maggie.

"I can't wait for her to be old enough to try one." Maggie had her own little plate with cut up lasagna and salad on it, just like the grown-ups. 

"I imagine she'll take to it. Maybe we can find a park with some of those ones for little kids. I don't know much about that, honestly. I'm a novice with children--I'm just glad she tolerates me." Iain took a bite of the lasagna and closed his eyes. "This is incredible."

Maggie apparently agreed, using her small fork to attack it messily and using her hand only to help get the food onto the utensils. Charlie just blushed, of course.

"It was my mom's recipe. My dad was not a typical guy's guy, but he loved his meat at dinner, and even he liked it. So I figured it was a safe bet." 

"You don't have to explain your choices, Charlie. I'm just glad you made them. You said your dad was quite a cook as well?" Iain distracted Charlie from his obvious nerves with pleasant conversation for the rest of the meal, finding that Charlie's family sounded absolutely lovely. It was also quite glaring that he never, ever mentioned his brother.

In return, Iain told him stories about his upbringing. "I have to admit, I prefer the way that you do things. In my family, we would have been fed separately in the kitchen by the cook, then taken up to the nursery with the nanny well before any guests arrived."

"That sounds so awful to me, but then I come from the most different world imaginable, I guess. My parents were real barn-burner activists in the 60s, marching and raising hell for everything from womens' lib to civil rights to gay rights. I come from a proud lineage of hippies. I should be glad my name isn't Stardust Moonlight." Charlie looked over at Maggie. "I just want her to know you. You're our first dinner guest." 

"And I am so glad that you dodged that particular bullet." Iain laughed. "And your daughter is a delight." 

"My grandparents would have had a mental breakdown had they gone that route with our names, so we got staid and boring." It was the first he'd even obliquely mentioned Don.

Soon enough, dinner was over, and dessert, a chocolate torte he'd bought that morning, was all over Maggie despite her trying to be so, so careful with it. It was past her bedtime a bit, and she was getting a little cranky that her hands weren't doing what she wanted them to. 

"I'll clean off the table and amuse myself while you hose her down and put her to bed," Iain offered, not letting Charlie refuse the offer. "Go on, I'm quite sure I can manage it adequately. You have your hands full." 

That Charlie did, trying to get Maggie up the stairs and all the way to the bathroom without her smearing him with chocolate. No luck--she managed to get his cheek and a his shirt thoroughly besmirched. He was just grateful she'd missed his hair for once. After she was bathed and asleep, he went to his room to wash his face and change shirts, trying not agonize and going for a long sleeved pullover. 

"Sorry that took so long--she got me good before I got her to the tub." Charlie found Iain in the tidied living room, with a fire started and a glass of wine in his hand. _Is this what it feels like to have a partner? Wow, could I get used to this. Too bad I'm about to lose him._ "Thank you for cleaning up, you didn't have to do that."

"No, but I wanted to. Come and sit down?" He held out a second glass of wine for Charlie, and Charlie went to sit, close but not too close, taking the wine and a long sip. It was really good. 

"So...I guess it's time, huh? I...you know I'm only doing this because I like you so much, right?" Charlie's nerves were obvious in the tremor of his hands. 

"I know that, but you have to know that whatever you tell me, I'm not going to judge you. I care for you, and that's why I'm sitting here listening to you. Otherwise, I would never expect you to just tell me your deepest secrets." 

"But given the nature of our relationship, and what it would be, honesty is important, isn't it?" Charlie knew that. Lying or just withholding information would get them off to very bad footing. 

"If I'm going to be your Master, ever, in any context, then yes. Honesty is vital." There it was, said out loud with no amusement park ride metaphors. It made Charlie shiver, just hearing it. "Charlie, put down your wine, please." His voice was low, but it was velvet over iron. 

Charlie put the glass down, keeping his eyes cast on his lap.

"Look at me, sweetheart." Again, instant compliance. "I'm going to ask you a question, and I want you to answer honestly. Do not just say what you think I want to hear. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Iain," he murmured softly. 

"Good. It seems strange to me that you're about to bare your soul to me and I've never even kissed you. May I kiss you?" Iain's voice was still soft, and the iron in it dissolved.

"Yes, Iain. Please." Charlie dared the 'please.' He had a feeling it would be all right. 

It was. It was so much more than all right. Iain slid a hand into Charlie's curls and oh-so-gently brought their faces together, lips almost touching as he murmured, "I've wanted to do this since the first moment I saw you." Disheveled and defensive and beautiful. 

The kiss was so soft at first, but to Charlie it was like a brand against his lips, and he couldn't hold back a gasp, leaning into Iain and wordlessly begging for more. Putting a hand into his hair and using it to move him, even with supreme care, was a fast way to make Charlie slide halfway to sub-space. Iain was a little surprised at the way Charlie melted for him, but he loved it. It was beautiful, and it told him so much. His tongue touched Charlie's lips, parting them then slipping inside to taste for the first time. Delicious, perfect. 

Charlie knew how to yield, how to give way but answer with his own hunger. His tongue slid along Iain's and while Iain was absolutely driving the kiss, Charlie was no passive rider. Iain explored, taking his own time, learning for himself just how Charlie liked to kiss. Deeply, it turned out, and open-mouthed, and with a mixture of sweetness and pure lust that was utterly intoxicating. 

Charlie was in heaven, breathing the breaths Iain gave him, accepting even this small part of Iain inside him with a pliancy that didn't speak of weakness but rather an immense hidden strength. He was so hard, so quickly, and yet he didn't try to control the kiss or rub or press himself up against Iain. Iain's heart was pounding--they were close enough for Charlie to feel it--and so was his. No doubt in Charlie's mind that Iain was as affected by this kiss as he was.

It had to end before they just gave up and rutted on the couch despite every good reason they shouldn't. Iain pulled back, hunger palpable in his eyes. "Dear god, sweetheart." Master Iain fled as they separated. It was time for Charlie now to take charge, to take this conversation in the direction he seemingly felt compelled to. 

"If I'm going to be honest, I have to start by confessing that I've never been kissed like that in my life." Charlie got his breath and licked his lips, trying to bring back some of Iain's taste. He retrieved his wine and sat back a little, because this was where it got impossible. "I'm not sure where to even start." 

"The beginning. How old were you when you realised you had the need to submit, to take pleasure in pain?" Iain took refuge in his own wine glass, because the need to hold Charlie close was so overwhelming.

"God, I suppose I was around fourteen. I went off to Princeton at thirteen, and while my mom stayed the first semester to make sure I'd be all right, I was on my own after that. It was strange and scary, and that's when I started taking a very particular comfort in hurting myself in small ways while I...um. Got myself off." He blushed scarlet. "I thought I was just a freak with that, like I was with everything else."

Iain couldn't imagine Charlie so young and particularly vulnerable on his own, but then how does a mother know her son is especially ripe for abuse?

"I had a few lovers at Princeton, casual mostly, boys and girls, because people liked to fuck the little genius but didn't exactly want to be seen dating him. I did have one fairly serious boyfriend, who was a freshman and seventeen and didn't care who saw what." It was obviously a good memory. "That ended when I graduated and went to Cambridge to finish my first doctorate. I was sixteen." He bit his lip. "I met my first Mistress at Cambridge. She was in her early thirties, very experienced. I ended up living mostly with her for the two years I was there. I learned most of what I know from her." 

Iain's protective instincts tried to struggle up from the sub-basement of his mind where he'd locked them down tight for the night. "That...must have been quite an eye-opener." 

"Oh, it was. She treated me well, but I was definitely her slave. Sometimes it was like we were actually a couple, but mostly if I was home and not working I was on my knees. It felt very comforting." Quieted his always-racing mind, gave him peace. "When I went home to Cal-Sci that ended, too. I was old enough then to go to clubs, and that kept me grounded enough to work and not worry so much about dating. I'd go get the living hell beat out of me, get fucked, and go about my business. It was hollow, but it...sufficed, I guess." He'd just had so much more to **do** than to worry about finding a new Master or Mistress. 

"So far this all sounds like a familiar sort of story, Charlie. I'm guessing things go very wrong in it very soon." Iain's voice was gentle, and he stopped resisting the urge to stroke Charlie's hair and shoulders, letting the younger man lean against him. 

"It went wrong when my mother got sick." So much sorrow in his voice, even after such a long time. "She knew that I couldn't watch her die. She told me to do the impossible for her. So instead of spending all day, every day at her bedside I went on sabbatical at Cal-Sci and started working on P vs NP. It's an unsolvable problem. I didn't sleep, I barely ate, I went...pretty crazy working. I had to do it, you know. I had to do the impossible for her. Every time I did go to the hospital, my dad and my brother were there, and they didn't understand. At all. Don especially. He thought I was locking myself away from her, staying away because I was selfishly working. My mom knew better, though." He tried to lick his lips, but they were dry and he took a drink of wine. 

"The only one who understood you?" Iain asked softly.

"She was like me, but with music," Charlie answered. "So yes. The really awful thing was that I failed her. She died, and while I had made so many breakthroughs on the problem I hadn't solved it for her. I couldn't stand there at her bedside and tell her I did the impossible for her. My dad was angry with me, but my brother was...disgusted and enraged." 

"That must have hurt." Brothers often had such fraught relationships.

"Considering I'd worshipped him like a god my whole life, yeah, it did. When I was little I followed him everywhere. God, he resented the hell out of me. The money I cost the family, the attention I needed, everything. I graduated high school the same day he did. I never meant to be such a burden on the family, to take so much of what should have been his. I wanted him to have everything. I loved him so much it hurt." The past tense was very much in evidence.

"I'm sure your brother was the only one who thought you a burden." Iain was forming a thought, and he hoped like hell he was wrong. 

Charlie shrugged. "My parents almost got divorced over my mom coming with me to Princeton, so...I don't know. He avoided me until I started working with him at the FBI. That's when I think he started to...pick up on things." 

Fuck, Iain was right. "Charlie, was your brother the one who hurt you?" His voice was so soft. 

Charlie put down his wine and wrapped his arms around himself. "Yes," he whispered. "But at first, Iain...God, at first I loved it. He was so strong and so hard on me, but I loved it because finally I was his good boy. After so many years of disappointing him, I made him happy. I know that makes me sick. I know how it must sound." 

"It sounds to me like someone abusing your nature and your desperate desire for love and acceptance to coerce you into a relationship." 

"But I liked it! I let him!"

"You were supposed to--that was all part of the design. Any Dom with any talent at all could have had you just as twisted up. If he'd never touched you, would you have ever approached him?"

Charlie shook his head. "It wouldn't have occurred to me." 

"And at some point it went from 'good' to bad, yes?" Because of course it did--the good was the gateway drug to enduring the bad.

"It went very bad. He was extremely possessive. He took, um, extreme advantage of my pain tolerance and then used a field medicine kit to stitch me back together. He fucked me, and it hurt, and that's...you know how most subs have at least one hard stop?" At Iain's nod he continued. "If I have one, even one, it's getting fucked dry. It's too intimate, too totally personal, feeling someone in you, ripping and tearing.." Charlie shuddered and his memories slid sideways. Iain took him into his arms and held him till he could struggle back to the present day. He did an admirable job of hiding his own growing rage. How could anyone mistreat this gift of a man? Especially someone who was supposed to protect him and love him?

Charlie straightened up and swiped at his eyes angrily. "It went on. I tried to end it more than once and he just laughed and did one of the many things that put me right into sub-space." He shook his head. "I am so fucking easy it's a disgrace." 

"No. No..it's a disgrace to use it against you, to use it to hurt you. Your submission is beautiful, Charlie." This was harder to listen to than he'd even imagined. "It should be cherished." 

Charlie snorted indelicately. "Maybe so, but I let it rule me, I let it make some terrible decisions. A few years later, I went out to a concert with my friend Amita. I loved her so much, she was always there for me even if I couldn't tell her anything substantial about my life. She was brilliant and beautiful, and if I hadn't been so twisted I'm sure things would have gone much differently between us. So Don was out of town, we went to concert. We got very drunk and had sex. It was dark, so she didn't really see my back and even drunk I knew to keep a shirt on. Afterward, when we'd sobered up, we decided that it was probably best we stay friends, but ones that love each other." 

Iain took a breath, guessing what came next but keeping his mouth shut.

"She got pregnant. Amita was from a very traditional family. She didn't want to get an abortion, and she couldn't be a single mother. Not that I'd let her take on my baby alone. So we got married. I had every intention in the world of being the perfect husband and father. Of leaving my 'proclivities' in my past. I told Don it was over. I meant it.

"We moved into a condo, and we were happy, really. I mean, given that I predominantly like guys and I'm a die hard pain-junkie, the sex wasn't exactly, um, passionate, but she seemed good and I got to keep my shirt on. She actually thought it was adorable that I was so shy." He shook his head. "I was thinking of stories to tell her that even made sense so I could stop being so paranoid she'd find out about me." 

Charlie paused, looked over at Iain. "This is where I fuck everything up." It almost gave him chills.

"Don got very angry with me after a case, and...I let him whip me and fuck me." He bit his lip hard. "I couldn't even remember her name, Iain. It wasn't good, even, it was awful and I couldn't get to the right space to get away from it and...I fucked everything up."

"Amita found out. I was bleeding through my shirt and didn't even realise, and she demanded to know what was going on. I didn't know what to do. I told her the truth. She was so disgusted. Iain, god, she went from loving me to hating me in one conversation. I did that." This was the hardest part of the story. He came off as a victim for much of it, which was bad enough, but when it came to talking about Amita, it was all on him. 

"I moved back into the family home, and let Amita have the condo, gave her half of everything. I even put on the divorce decree that it was my fault. It was too late for an abortion, but I could tell her heart wasn't in the pregnancy anymore. She got a job offer when she was almost eight months along from CERN for a very prestigious fellowship. Here's where I get very lucky. Amita could have decided to take the baby with her, and never let me see her again. What could I have done? How did I even have a moral leg to stand on to ask for partial custody?" 

Iain thought of the devoted father he'd seen and yet kept his mouth shut. "And instead..."

"Amita made me swear on my mother's grave that I was done with Don. I was. I was done with him, he'd cost me everything. Then she told me she wanted me to have full custody of our daughter. She said no matter what a mess I was, she believed I would love our baby and take good care of her. It let her close this fucked-up chapter of her life and move on to start again." Charlie managed a tiny smile. "I've never said yes to anything faster." 

"I'm glad you did. Maggie is a delight." Iain could say that wholeheartedly.

"Margaret, for my mother." Charlie smiled a little more, but it dissolved. "My dad was so proud of her. It was so sweet. He taught me what to do, thank God. And then one morning we got up and he'd passed in the night. Aneurysm." His voice cracked. "I still miss him so much. He'd like you. At the funeral reception, Don cornered me and tried something, with Maggie in my arms. That's when I told him I was never going to speak to him again, and took my old friend at Cambridge up on the guest professorship." He shrugged. "And now here we are." 

Iain sat in silence for a long moment. "Charlie, first of all, I'm not going anywhere. Know that. You have not successfully scared me away." So now Charlie would have to deal with a relationship. "Secondly, what your brother did to you was abuse. He used his power over your emotions and his knowledge of your weaknesses to do things that I, as a human being and a Dominant, find appalling on the deepest levels. Please tell me that you know you deserve better than what he did to you."

"I...I tried very hard not to think of any of it for a long time. Until I met you. I know you would never, ever treat me like a thing to use and throw away. That's not exactly answering your question, though. I...I'm trying to believe that. Very hard. I've been very well-trained, though, Iain. So very well-trained." 

"And it will take time to overcome that. I know. That's why we tour the whole park before even getting in the queue, right?" He stroked Charlie's cheek gently with the back of his hand. 

"And finally, you should know that I would see you on your knees for me as a gift. A perfect gift, to be treasured and cherished, not used. If you're looking, wanting, more unthinking brutality, I cannot do that." 

"God, no. No...I want what you could give more than I've wanted anything since Maggie was born. More than I've ever wanted something purely for myself. I want to know you like that, I want you to know me." 

"You are the sweetest little one," Iain whispered, pulling him in again for a kiss because he couldn't help himself. Fuck discipline, this young man was made for him to kiss. 

Charlie curled into his side and shivered with the leftover adrenaline and emotion of telling that painful story. "Would you...do you want to see?" He couldn't believe that Iain was still here, was kissing him like something precious. It made him brave. 

"I think that I should. Is there anything else I should know, physically?" 

"I've dislocated both shoulders a few times, and my right hip once." Seeing the anger on Iain's face, he immediately added, "But I can still do anything you want me to!" 

"No, no, sweetheart. No...that's not it. I'm angry that anyone let that happen even once, much less repeatedly. I'm glad you told me. I'll take it into account. I just have one favour to ask you." Now that he felt he had permission to stroke Charlie's hair, he couldn't seem to stop.

"I doubt I would say no." Charlie let his eyes go half closed and let the gentle motion erode the sharp edges of his anxiety. 

"I'd like to sleep here with you tonight. We're in no way ready for more, but I do not want to leave you alone after a night like this." Christ, though, the way Charlie arched into caresses was hard to resist. 

"I would really like that," Charlie murmured. "I tend to have nightmares, though..." 

"I imagine you do, sweetheart," Iain murmured back. "Maybe I want to be there to do this for you when they come."

"Okay. You ready to go up?" It wasn't all that late, but Charlie was exhausted. It was hard work, rehashing one's sordid past. 

"You know I'm not going to let you sleep for awhile, hm? I want to kiss you until your lips are so tender I barely have to graze mine against them to make you quiver." Iain whispered the words into Charlie's ear, making him mewl just a little, under his breath. It was exquisite. 

"I...I can live with that," Charlie groaned, wondering what witchery this man had to make him feel so aroused just by matter of factly telling him how much he was about to be kissed. It wasn't even like being a teenager again--this was a whole new frontier. 

Sliding off the couch, he offered Iain his hand, smiling when the other man took it and let himself be led up the stairs to Charlie's room. It was a warm, homey space, with an antique wooden bed frame and a collection of quilts rather than something matching perfectly and all pulled together into an impeccable set. There wasn't any clutter lying around, and the decorations were photos of Maggie on the dresser and framed editions of his book covers. Taking pride of place was the book he'd written on his progress against the unsolvability of P vs NP with the dedication to his mother. 

"This was my parents' bed, and their parents before them. Most of these quilts were made by my grandmother. And wow, that must be the opposite of sexy." Charlie had to laugh at himself. 

"Actually, it's lovely. You're someone who honours your past, and I find that beautiful." Iain sat on the edge of the bed and held out a hand. "Now come here, sweetheart. Let me have a look, yes?"

Charlie clasped his hand and moved close, nodding and steeling himself. His back was not lovely. Iain let his hand go and smoothly pulled off Charlie's shirt, laying it across the footboard and letting his eyes wander over Charlie's lean, rather furry chest. Then he gripped the younger man's hips gently and turned him to face away.

"Oh, Charlie." The older man sounded heartbroken as he looked at the ugly network of raised scars from whips, burns, knives, all poorly cared for by an obvious novice. There was so much marred skin on Charlie's back that Iain wondered if he still retained feeling. His fingers mapped what his eyes were seeing, studying to see if the touch elicited a reaction. The low, pained sound told him that they did.

"I'm sorry," Charlie choked out, and Iain could see the flush of shame across his shoulders, going up his neck. There were trails of scars going down past his waistband as well, but Iain had evidently seen enough. Don was a beast.

Charlie let himself be turned back around without resistance, eyes shiny with determinedly unshed tears. "I wish I could be new for you." 

"Oh, my sweet one..." Iain pulled him down into an embrace, kissing his cheeks gently. "You are. You are new and perfect and there is so much we will learn about each other." 

"I don't disgust you?" It still seemed an impossibility that Iain could look on him with desire, even now. 

"God, no. I'm angry that you were hurt and not cared for properly. I would like to wring your brother's neck. But more than anything, I want to lie in this bed with you." And be the third generation to find love within its boundaries. To him, that was beautiful. To Iain, giving pain was a beautiful thing, too, and to know that all of these acts of love and devotion were twisted into brutality made him ache inside to make it better. 

Charlie would probably always have a hard time accepting that some part of him didn't deserve what Don did to him, but enough of him listened to Iain that he simply nodded, and slid his hands down the man's chest to pull his jumper off. 

Soon, both of them were down to boxers, curled up under the quilts facing each other, foreheads pressed together. "I think you said something about kissing me until...what was it...something about my lips..." Charlie smiled a little, and Iain tugged him in and tangled their legs up together.

"Cheeky," he whispered, just before his lips met Charlie's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for staying with me! There is much, much more to come!


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, rollercoasters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you trying to avoid the BDSM content...I'm not sure what to tell you. It's very mild in this chapter, but it does sort of pervade it. It's too central to who Charlie and Iain are to just not come up. There's no explicit pain play, so I didn't mark anything off. Just a warning that it's in there.

Iain wondered if he'd ever stop feeling like a nervous schoolboy walking up the steps to Charlie's flat. Once they were together, everything was warm and easy. It was just that the anticipation was incredibly distracting. But then again, that's what new love was, wasn't it? A constant state of distracting anticipation. He didn't even try to kid himself that he wasn't falling hopelessly in love. 

Charlie answered just a few seconds after the first knock, dressed for a day out in jeans and a tee shirt with a light jacket. He snuck out the door guiltily and kissed Iain hello on the front stoop. "I feel like an ass leaving her on a Saturday." 

"I would say that being one hundred percent full time for two years earns you the occasional day for yourself." Iain smiled and walked arm in arm to his car, a nondescript but very nice black Mercedes. The nerves evaporated in Charlie's presence like they always did, and he opened the car door for the younger man just to enjoy the shy smile it provoked. "You have nothing to feel guilty about."

"I know that logically, but...well. Parenting is often the least logical thing in the universe. Right up there with love." Charlie's smile stayed firmly put as they pulled away from the kerb. "Don't take that to mean I'm not really looking forward to this day. Rollercoasters, finally." 

"Finally," Iain agreed, glancing over to Charlie with a smile of his own. "You're beautiful when you're excited and happy, you know." Of course he was also beautiful when he was sad--he had that kind of face, those kinds of eyes--but Iain loved more than anything seeing him happy.

There was the blush, right on cue. "And I think you're incredibly handsome all the time." There was a pause while he gathered more courage. "Especially in my bed, kissing me to sleep."

The boy was going to break his heart. He reached over and gathered Charlie's hand in his, knitting the fingers as he eased the car skillfully onto the motorway. "I can't wait to do it again. Perhaps tonight?" The night of revelations was a whole week ago, and they hadn't repeated the overnight stay. By Iain's books, they were very successful at taking it slowly. 

"Yes. Please. I was hoping you'd say that." Charlie squeezed his hand, trying to look at the passing sights but only really able to focus on Iain."Cold showers are getting a little old." 

"Do you really do that? I mean, there are more pleasant remedies." And they have in no way negotiated anything, much less orgasm denial. 

"I...when I do...that...sometimes my mind wanders and I end up dredging up things that I don't want associated with you. So no, I really prefer cold showers. Or, you know, having you with me." Charlie clearly meant Don and memories of abuse, so Iain could understand the caution. The subconscious was a brutal place at times. 

"I would much rather be with you, too. For one thing, my wrist is getting sore." It was so much fun to see how deeply he could make Charlie blush, but this time the younger man surprised him by laughing instead. It was delightful. 

"See, now, I can't have that. I have my pride--or is that not something a sub is supposed to say? It probably isn't." But keeping his lover in orgasms was certainly something he could do and wanted to do. He uncurled his fingers from Iain's and brought his palm up to kiss, then nuzzle his face against. 

"There's nothing wrong in taking joy in your abilities, sweetheart," Iain murmured, heart beating a little harder at the sensation of soft lips against tender flesh. "But if you keep that up much longer, I'll just be forced to find us a motel to spend the day in. No rollercoasters for either of us, then." Just what promised to be truly spectacular sex. 

"But I **ache** to serve you." Charlie looked over at Iain from under his extravagant lashes, pupils dilated. 

_Jesus bloody Christ._ What could you say to that? Iain was so hard he could barely think, but thinking was somewhat crucial since for one he was driving, and for another, he couldn't afford to be impetuous with his sweet boy. "Oh, my darling...never doubt that you will. Never doubt that you are the most enticing creature I have ever met." 

"I'll wait as long as Master wishes," Charlie whispered. The words were like live wires snaking right into Iain's head, his heart, his balls. 

"Right now, I want you to feel what you do to me. I want you to understand how deeply you're wanted. Touch me." Iain gave his voice that hint of authority, that velvet-over-steel tone that he knew made his boy crazy with hunger. 

His hand was released, and Charlie reached over to slide his own hand up a muscled, lean thigh to the bulge at the top, cupping it and then kneading gently. Iain could feel that hand shake with repressed need. "Mmm, my boy has lovely hands. But now you must move your hand away. I need to drive and you are deliciously distracting." 

"This one is sorry for distracting you, Master," Charlie murmured, looking down at his hands. 

_Oh no, none of that._ "Look at me, sweet boy." Charlie obeyed immediately. "You are not 'this one'. You are Charlie, and Charlie is who I'm with, even when we're in scene. Do you understand?" No erasing of identities on his watch. He'd always found it distasteful, and they weren't even in scene, they were in a car on the way to an amusement park.

Charlie dared a grateful smile. "Yes, Master." He licked his lips. "Iain. Thank you." 

Iain took a deep breath and smiled back at the younger man, acutely aware of his vulnerability. "I hope you don't think it's all one-sided hunger now, at least." The tone was gone from his voice. 

"Oh, I'd say it was pretty obvious. For the record, I wouldn't mind a bit if we found that motel."

"I would. I want to make love to you for the first time in your grandparents' bed." Iain hadn't forgotten. "And I am dying to see you on a rollercoaster."

Charlie was speechless for long moments as the countryside rolled by. When he spoke, his voice was shaky. "You understand."

Iain took his hand again, lifting it to kiss his knuckles. He understood.

**

It was a brisk, overcast day so the park wasn’t terribly crowded. Charlie grinned unabashedly when Iain kept hold of his hand, and Iain found himself wondering if the young man had ever had anyone he could just walk around in public holding hands with. Probably not, and that just made Iain hold on tighter.

True to their conversation, they didn’t go straight for the big, wooden rollercoaster at the centre of the park. First they hit up the candy floss, and Charlie ate a disturbing amount of pure sugar, easily enough to ensure he would be vibrating the rest of the day. It didn’t seem to have any ill effects on him, because he handled all the rides like a champ, grinning and laughing when he was taken and spun around and dropped and lifted.

Iain liked the rides well enough, but the whole experience tended to remind him of the rowdier bits of Kingsman training. No, he derived the most pleasure from watching Charlie just let go and have fun. After a particularly dizzying turn on the whirligig, Charlie grabbed his hand and pulled him into the fun house, finding a secluded corner and kissing Iain within an inch of his life. It was the first time that Charlie had ever taken the initiative, and Iain grinned around the kiss, arms enfolding the slighter body and opening for him.  
When Charlie came back up for air, he flushed with his own boldness. “Was that all right?”

“Sweetheart, yes. God, yes.” Iain pressed his forehead to Charlie’s. “I never, ever want a mindless slave. I want a lover. I want you to have what you need.”

Charlie nuzzled his mouth against Iain’s. “It’ll take me awhile to get used to that.”

“Believe it or not…this is the first real relationship I’ve had, too. “ Iain stole another kiss in the dim light of the fun house. “Never enough time, never the right place at the right time. But now of course I know the truth.”

“Mm. What’s that?”

“I was waiting.” It seems so obvious here, holding Charlie close.

“I don’t believe in fate, or destiny,” Charlie whispered. “I prefer happy accidents.” This was the second happy accident in his life.

“Serendipity.” It was really just another word for destiny, if you asked Iain.

“I like the sound of that.” Charlie took his hand. “Tell me it’s finally rollercoaster time.”

“Well, I certainly didn’t leave the whole last three hours of the day open for snogging in the fun house.” As appealing as that might be.

They left the fun house still joined at the hands, and wound their way to the park to the old grand dame of a wooden rollercoaster. Charlie's eyes scanned over it, and he looked over to Iain mischievously. "Would you like to know the mathematical probability of this hulk falling down mid-ride?" 

"No, I rather think not. I may not be frightened of them, but I don't seem to have quite your macabre glee over them, either." They got in line, and Iain draped an arm around Charlie's narrow shoulders. 

"Oh, remind me--before we go home, I want to try and win one of those giant pandas in the arcade for Maggie. She loves pandas." Charlie grinned. Those things were bigger than she was. 

"Let me do it. We'll go home with the whole menagerie." The idea made Iain grin in return, and he found himself looking forward to the squealing of a happy little girl. 

"Those games are rigged." Charlie looked up at him. "But you know that, don't you? You're just that good a shot."

"I'm just that good a shot." It was ridiculous false modesty to say anything else. 

The line moved fairly quickly, and before long Charlie and then Iain were taking their places side by side in the colourfully-painted car and getting strapped in. Charlie was vibrating with glee, yet still white-knuckling the bar. Before Iain could ask him about it, they were off. 

Iain wasn't really planning on screaming. One, he was British, thank you, and two, he'd been thrown around more jumping out of airplanes than dropping off a climb on a rollercoaster. However, once Charlie started, he had to join in. Nothing else would do.

Charlie let go of the bar to throw his hands up, whooping with a pure glee that was as exhilarating as the ride was to Iain. When the ride stopped, they wobbled their way right back into line, Charlie clinging to Iain's arm and laughing. 

Nothing had ever been so sweet, or so beautiful.

"Your hair," Iain laughed, reaching out to smooth down rioting, windblown curls. 

"It's always the hair," Charlie agreed, letting Iain try and knowing all along it was a fool's errand. By the time they rode two more rounds it was a hopeless tangle. After that, Iain abandoned fixing it as a bad job and just grinned at how dishevelled his lover was. 

All in all, they made the trek along the old wooden beast six times. Charlie was winded and full of energy still, bouncing along next to Iain as they wound their way back through the dwindling crowd to the arcade. "Thank you, Iain. Seriously, thank you, that was the most fun I've had since...well, in a really long time." 

"Don't thank me--seeing you happy is like a drug." And tonight, Iain had every intention of showing Charlie just how addicted he was. "Now it's time to rig the rigged system." He grinned and made a beeline for the giant panda booth. 'All' you had to do to win was shoot a stream of water into a teeny tiny hole and blow up a balloon. If you got all three balloons in thirty seconds or less, you got the panda. Obviously, no one ever won. 

Iain paid the man his two quid and ignored the remarks geared to winding him up to fail. 'Too bad your boyfriend's going home empty-handed!' 'I hope you don't think you're gonna win that bear!' It mattered not at all what the man said as he picked up the water rifle and tested its weight and balance just like it was a firearm. He looked at the spout, calculated the water pressure that would come out, then nodded.

The first balloon popped inside ten seconds, and the other two followed suit shortly thereafter. There wasn't a drop of water on the ground or on the balloons before they ruptured, and he used exactly as much 'ammo' as he had available to do the job. The crowd waiting applauded, Charlie kissed his cheek and hugged him, and Iain took custody of the very fluffy, very huge stuffed panda. 

"Wanker," Iain muttered as they walked off, voice somewhat muffled by the bear. 

"Yeah, but you showed him. God, Mags is going to have a FIT. I can't wait. You have to be the one to give it to her." Charlie's grin threatened to split his face. 

"What if it scares the hell out of her?" Who knew how children worked anyway?

"Nah, it won't. She'll love it, and I want her to have nothing but happy memories where you're concerned. You're going to be around for a long time." Charlie said it confidently as they made their way to the carpark, but he looked nervously over at Iain.

"Excellent strategy, darling. I want her like me. She's a part of you, after all." No need for nerves; Iain knew what dating Charlie entailed. You couldn't separate him from his daughter or hold her at arm's length, and indeed he didn't want to. He'd never considered parenting, but there was something oddly fitting about him, solid and pragmatic and proper, dropping into this strange, fey family with its otherworldly brilliance and echoes of grief so complex they made him ache. 

As he drove home, Charlie dozed off holding his hand, and he could think of nothing more desirable than to be their rock. Their shield against a world that was often far too cruel for people like them. Charlie had already dashed himself to a bloody ruin against the indifferent cliffs of reality. Now was the time for him to heal, and to make sure Maggie never cried a single tear over who she was or what she could be. 

By the time they got back into London, Charlie had woken up and smiled at him sheepishly. "Adrenaline crash." 

"I should say so." Iain lifted Charlie's hand and kissed the knuckles. 

"Are we close? Pizza for dinner?" How had this come to feel so normal so quickly?

"Yes, and yes. I can't remember the last time I ate pizza." Not usually one of his go-to food choices, though now that he thought of it, he really liked it. Strange how one talked oneself out of a thing because it didn't seem proper. 

"Really? God, I love pizza," Charlie laughed, freeing his hand to run his fingers through his tangled curls, working out the worst of the knots. "I think I'm a permanent grad student. In school, we'd go to all the events we could because inevitably there was free pizza and we were broke. So now I order pizza whenever I want it."

"And Maggie likes it, too?" 

"Like father like daughter." They pulled up in front of the car and Charlie hopped out practically before Iain finished parking. It was obvious how much he missed his Maggie, and he was inside dismissing the nanny in a flash. The poor woman seemed a bit put out, but Charlie just did things a little differently than most of her previous clients. Like, he actually did them himself. 

He was hugging Maggie when Iain came in with the panda. It really was ridiculously huge, and Charlie said, "Hey, Maggie, what does Iain have for you?"

Her eyes got even bigger, and she was speechless for a second. "A...panda!" 

"Yes, a panda. Would you like to come meet it?" Iain set the panda down and crouched down next to it as Charlie put her on the floor. "It's quite friendly."

Maggie, still wide-eyed, tiptoed closer and regarded it seriously, examining it from every angle before reaching out a chubby hand to touch the soft, fluffy fur. Then she made a little 'oooh!' noise and hugged it hard, letting herself tumble over with it onto the carpet with a peal of laughter. 

"I think it's a hit." Charlie came over to Iain with a huge smile on his face. "Good job. I was a little afraid it would overwhelm her. That happens sometimes." 

"I don't always expect it to be this easy," Iain reassured him, grinning at the spectacle of a toddler and a vast stuffed panda wrestling. 

"You're a natural." Charlie kissed him softly, then dialed the pizza place in his contacts, ordering a large Greek pizza and salad and rattling off his card number from memory. One of the many conveniences of having a Charlie, it would seem. 

While they waited, they sat down and played with Maggie and the newly christened Nanda the Panda, laughing as she told nonsense stories about her new friend. 

**

After pizza was consumed and Maggie had her bath, Charlie got the shock of his parenting life when his daughter demanded 'Een' read her a story. Charlie tucked her into bed and Iain saw him coming down the stairs, perplexed. 

"That was fast." Iain was just putting the dinner dishes in the sink. 

"Well, um, she...wants you to read her a story. Is that okay? You don't have to..." Charlie obviously was a little freaked out.

"It's perfectly fine. I'd like to. But why does it upset you?" Iain turned Charlie's face up so he could see his eyes.

"Because she doesn't take to people like this...ever. And it scares me a little. And it gives me hope that she can adjust in the world. And...it's complicated?"

"I have no intention of going anywhere, sweet boy. I will be here to read her stories and tuck her in when she wants me to." To Iain, the conflict was so clear. "I know this is still new, and we're trying to take it all slowly, but I truly love being here, and I think your daughter is wonderful." 

Charlie nodded slowly. "Grab Nanda and I'll show you where the books are." He smiled and headed back up the stairs, leaving Iain to follow with the giant panda. Nanda ended up taking pride of place on the floor at the foot of Maggie's bed, and she chose 'Stellaluna' for her book. 

Iain sat on the floor next to her bed and she crawled into his lap and settled her head in the crook of his arm as he read to her. His voice was so nice Charlie sat down to listen, too, even though he had the book memorised. Maggie was out two-thirds of the way through the book, but Iain finished anyway, handing the volume to Charlie as he carefully picked her up and laid her in her bed, kissing her forehead. 

He left it to Charlie to tuck her in and give her one last kiss, waiting in the hall outside her room. Charlie came out and closed the door, then promptly launched himself into Iain's arms, kissing him like his life depended on it. Mouth latched onto mouth, and Iain let Charlie pull him against the wall, pinning the smaller man there and tilting his face so he could push his tongue against Charlie's. 

It was a mess of a kiss, one that had clearly been building for quite some time, and Iain knew little beyond the fact that he wanted more. More skin, deeper, flesh in flesh and breath in breath. His hands rucked up Charlie's tee shirt, grappling artlessly against bare skin until his thumbs grazed hard nipples and Charlie moaned wantonly into his mouth. 

"Bed...bed, now," Iain growled, pulling back by sheer force of will and gripping Charlie's wrist tightly, drawing him down the hall and into his room. "I've been watching you all day, wanting to eat you alive," he said, stripping off Charlie's shirt and then pulling back to look in the younger man's eyes.

For all the heated passion of the moment, there was something there that caused Iain to step down the pawing a bit, to steady himself and breathe in time with Charlie. This wasn't something to leave to chance and clothes-ripping impetuosity. It was too important. "Christ, Charlie, I want to know you. Want to know you inside and out, every inch, every noise, every expression..."

"It's all yours, Iain. All you have to do is come and take it--I'm giving it away." Like the sweetest little whore who also happened to be the most beloved man. He stripped off his shirt and toed off his shoes, and in moments he'd bared himself before his soon-to-be lover. Charlie was hard, painfully so, but there was a flush up from his chest to his neck. Embarrassment? No, just emotion. 

"You're giving it to me. Only to me." Ever again. "I am not letting you go." Iain was surprised to find his voice choked with emotion as his hands reached out, drawing the naked body into his arms, raising his lover's face for another kiss.

"No one else touches me. Not ever again." There was a bone-deep, soul-deep relief to the words. No more clubs, no more Don, no more anonymous men or women he had to pretend to want. Just Iain. Just perfect Iain. As a submissive he might not have all the control the brochures promised, but this was his to give. This body was his, until he gave it into Iain's keeping.

"Oh God, Charlie...do you know what you're saying?" Iain, rubbed his face against Charlie's, picking him up and laying him out on the bed, letting the younger man unbutton his shirt. 

"I do, Iain. If you want what I'm offering to you." Charlie also wanted the clothes off Iain as quickly as possible, but once he'd unbuttoned the shirt he got distracted by the bulge in the tailored trousers, rubbing his face against it through the cloth. 

Iain gasped and fisted Charlie's dark curls gently. "I have no words for the honour you bestow upon me, dear one," he murmured, feeling the tension melt out of Charlie the moment his hand closed into the soft hair. No, never any short haircuts for this one.

He held Charlie there for a long moment, the most basic, the simplest, the gentlest level of control. "Unbuckle and unzip, sweetheart," he said, biting his lip hard at the feeling of Charlie's clever hands making short work of his flies. "So beautiful. God, you are so beautiful." 

There was nothing for it but to let go to strip himself down to skin, but he was back in no time to press Charlie down onto the bed, covering his body with his own and wrapping him up in his arms as close as he could while still leaving room to kiss. And kiss they did, full skin on skin, until hearts were pounding and their cocks were straining against each other, far too close to that first orgasm for Iain's taste. Charlie's thighs slid apart, and his arms lifted, wrists crossing over his head.

Iain slid a hand up Charlie's flank, then took both wrists and held them. "Do you need this, sweetheart?" 

Charlie met his eyes and nodded. "Yes, please." Iain suspected it made him feel safe, controlled. With one more kiss, Iain left the bed just long enough to find his leather belt, straddling Charlie's hips and winding the supple material around and between his wrists before buckling it firmly, but not tightly. In truth, Charlie could probably get out, but Iain knew, beyond certainty, that he wouldn't. 

When his hands were secure, Charlie shuddered and a low cry choked in his throat, hips riding up as he flexed his hands against the leather and the feeling went right to his balls. It was a gorgeous sight; Iain drank it in. What a perfect submissive his Charlie was. In fact, Charlie's words in the car ("I **ache** to serve you," the words that had turned Iain's vision half-grey with sheer arousal) helped him to decide what came next.

He knelt on the bed and reached for Charlie, gripping his hair gently and guiding him up onto his knees, the position precarious but for Iain's careful support. "Suck, sweet boy. Show me what that beautiful mouth can do." Charlie whimpered and leaned forward, licking over the broad head of Iain's cock, gathering the precome for a taste before sinking down halfway. It had been a long, long time for him, and he didn't want to do anything unseemly like choke in front of his Master. 

Instead, he found a rhythm, and sank down on the hard flesh a little more each time, until he had Iain's prick buried deep in his throat and his old instincts had come roaring back to life. Iain saw what he was doing, and the low murmur of praise was constant. Charlie was his good boy, his perfect boy, and his mouth was so hot, so slick, and yes, that's it, swallow around it just. like. that. 

Charlie was so hard he was dripping down onto the sheets, and all he could do was hope that Master didn't want to come like this, that Master wanted to make love to him. Of course he had nothing whatsoever to worry about--after only a few minutes of suckling, Iain pulled him off and brought him up by the hair for a long, hungry kiss. "Lie back, beautiful, and spread your thighs nice and wide. I want a good taste of my boy. I want you so open, so ready, yes?"

Charlie's eyes went a little wide at that. Of course he knew what Iain was talking about, he wasn't naive. But in all of his years as a submissive, no one had ever, ever done that to him. Certainly not Don, who preferred him to hurt. Not his first mistress who just slicked up dildos and shoved them in. No one at the clubs. 

Iain saw the reaction and cursed himself a little that they hadn't stopped long enough to negotiate a safeword, but at the same time, unless he missed his guess, safewords would be useless for someone so beaten down as Charlie. He would consider it a victory the day they could use safewords. "Talk to me, sweet one. Lie back on the bed, spread your legs, and talk to me." 

Charlie obeyed, his hands loose over his head and his thighs open, hips canted up. "No one has ever done that to me before, Master," he whispered, eyes cast down. 

Iain blinked a few times in surprise, his hand never leaving Charlie's body, maintaining a constant connection. "Do you like the idea?"

"I..." 'I,' not 'this one,' he successfully reminded himself. "I want you to have everything. I want to give you everything, Master." 

"And I want to know every one of your dark, secret places. I want to feel you around my tongue, taste your musk, rub you into my skin. Because you are mine, and I am yours." Iain's cultured voice went rough--it looked like he would have a first from Charlie after all, and that was more arousing than it had any right to be. 

He covered his boy's shivering body with his own, starting again with a kiss. In fact, he grabbed a quilt from the end of the bed and wrapped them up against the chill in the air. and stayed under the soft quilt as he worked his way down, kissing at hard little nipples, then biting them with a slowly increasing pressure that made Charlie squirm and gasp. 

When Iain reached the aching prick arching up against Charlie's stomach, he surprised the boy again by taking it in his mouth, suckling hard and slow and relishing the desperate little noises. It went without saying that Charlie wouldn't come unbidden, so he let himself enjoy his lover's taste, the heavy feel of his arousal on his tongue, in his throat. 

When it became too much, he backed off, kissing the insides of Charlie's thighs and cupping his arse to lift it up and spread it wide. There were scars there, too, brutal ones from knives and even whips. Iain felt a dark flare of hate for the brother who would take such reckless chances with Charlie's well-being. One slip from that single-tail...it didn't bear thinking about. 

He pushed the hate down and let love rise in its place, because above all, here and now, this was about love and trust and creating both from nothing. His thumbs traced the tight little hole, and he watched it spasm, trying to open up. There was nothing he wanted more than to bury his tongue inside, and so he did, pushing into grasping muscle and thrusting gently before pulling out to lick at the rim. 

The noises that Charlie was making were utterly, completely addictive. He'd forgotten everything but 'Master' and 'Iain' and incoherent begging. Oh, how good he was making his boy feel. It made Iain's cock throb heavily, and he settled in to show Charlie what a proper rimming felt like. There were those deep thrusts, and the long, slow licks over the twitching hole, and circular meanderings of his tongue to catch every last nerve ending. 

Soon a spit-slick finger pushed inside along with his tongue, holding the little hole open so he could go even deeper. Charlie had gripped the bed slats and was moving his hips in concert with the motions of his tongue, grinding down and making his muscles grip and try and hold on for more. 

Iain finally came up for air, licking his slick lips and leaning up to offer Charlie a taste--not forcing one, just offering--and Charlie dove up to suckle at his mouth. Iain didn't bother to ask, he just reached out blindly for the nightstand and the lube he hoped he'd find there. Eventually he hit upon the tube, pulling it out and finding it brand new. Someone was hopeful, and wanted to start fresh. It was sweet, but then that was his boy, wasn't it? Sweet and wonderful and an utter, complete delight. 

Slicking up his fingers, he wrapped an arm around Charlie's shoulders and brought the smaller, compact body in against his. This was another moment that required the utmost care--he'd been hurt so badly--and Iain went so slowly as he pressed his middle finger inside all that slick, clenching heat. "Oh god, Charlie, sweet boy..." 

"Iain..." Maybe he'd meant to say 'Master,' but this was too close, too intimate, and Iain wanted it to be him and Charlie, all the way home.

"Does it hurt?" he whispered, gradually burying his gun-callused finger inside Charlie.

"God, no...I thought it would, but it just feels so good." Charlie brought his bound wrists down around Iain's neck, returning the embrace. "More?"

Iain just nodded and worked another slick finger inside along the first, knowing it would burn just a little and letting it, showing Charlie how the slight discomfort could turn to pleasure, showing Charlie that he could trust Iain, even if there was a little pain at first. Iain wouldn't let the pain stand. 

In moments, Charlie was working his hips with the rhythm of Iain's fingers, cheeks red and pupils blown. "Oh God...God, Iain," he murmured, and it trailed off to a low wail when Iain found his prostate and worked it. That was the signal for finger number three, and sure, Iain was overdoing the prep a little. But what Charlie had said was burned on his brain--how he couldn't stand being hurt from being fucked. He'd be damned if he were like all those others. If he were ever like Don.

Iain cut off the noises with a kiss, swallowing them and tasting them, tongue stealing the next round from Charlie's mouth as he worked the now-relaxed muscles with his fingers. It was as loose as Charlie was going to get, so he pulled out, swallowing that disappointed little noise too, while he was at it, and slicked up his cock. He settled in between Charlie's thighs stopped kissing him to ask the question with his eyes. Charlie nodded, mussed curls falling into his face, and his legs came up to loosely circle Iain's hips. "Please."

Oh dear God, his poor heart. Iain positioned his cock and pressed forward, going slowly but firmly, until he was balls-deep in Charlie's slick heat. The look on Charlie's face was transcendent and yet his eyes never wavered from Iain's, never tried to hide. Iain wrapped both arms around Charlie's slight body and started to move, holding him as tight and close as he knew how. 

Maybe it was just because they were in this bed, but Iain could feel a sense of rightness, of long spans of years to come and years stretching behind, almost like magic. But proper British spies don't believe in such drivel, surely. He just told himself that he was home.

Charlie's cock was pressed tight between them, rubbing against skin on every stroke, and he was shaking from holding back even before Iain thrust against his prostate. "Come for me whenever you wish, angel," Iain murmured into the thick, heady space between their lips. 

Charlie's bound arms tightened almost painfully around Iain's shoulders and he sobbed out his orgasm into his lover's neck, cock spurting between their bellies, the intensity of it leaving him husked out. Iain almost thought to stop, as agonizing as that would be, to check on Charlie and make sure he was all right, when he heard the small, plaintive plea in his ear: "Fill me up, please, please, Iain, want you in me." 

It was enough to make him utterly lose all semblance of control, burrowing deep into his new lover and letting orgasm take him. Long moments passed, and then finally his balls were emptied and the post-coital haze set in. Even through it, he knew he had to unbind Charlie's hands. 

He reached up with shaky fingers and undid the belt, remembering to chafe the flesh in case it had lost feeling. It was then he realised that Charlie was watching him through heavy-lidded eyes. "You're re-making me," Charlie whispered.

"I'm in love with you," Iain responded.

"And I'm in love with you." Iain stroked Charlie's curls, and Charlie arched into it, thighs tightening to keep Iain inside. "Just wait...soon I'll be your perfect little angel." To hurt in the most exquisite ways.

"What makes you think you aren't already?" Iain asked softly. "You are the most responsive, eager, natural submissive I've ever seen." 

"That's why I want you to make me into **your** perfect submissive. I don't care what anyone else wants, ever again. I want to be your ideal." And that is how Charlie would find his own bliss. 

Iain shook his head, kissed his angel. "Then I swear to you to be your ideal in return. Your perfect Master, in every way." 

"Is it foolish that I feel...blessed?" Charlie blushed. "I don't...really even believe in such things, but...I feel like we belong."

"Serendipity, my heart. Wasn't that it?"

The happiest of accidents. Charlie grinned and snuggled up in the crook of Iain's arm, heedless for the first time in years of the scars and the baggage and the crushing weight of all his misdeeds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once more, thank you all. You're all wonderful and I appreciate each and every one of you along with me on this very out-there ride. <3!


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Many of you get what you wanted when an old foe comes calling. Our boys negotiate their relationship, then act on it. Finally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for sticking with this fic. I love your comments and your kudos.
> 
> If you're averse to the BDSM, this is the chapter where it starts in earnest, from kink negotiation to acting it out. Granted, what's in this particular chapter is not that scandalous, but I know some of you have a squick. 
> 
> For those of you here for the BDSM, you're welcome :)

Charlie turned over in the crook of Iain's arm, wondering for the, oh, twelfth time how his boyfriend managed to sleep while holding him and not wake up with his arm asleep. He scooted back in, facing his lover this time, and studied his face, relaxed in sleep. Iain had the kind of looks that could fly right under the radar if you weren't looking. Many would call him 'average.' But those people had never looked deeply into those hazel eyes and seen all the colours that danced inside when he was happy. They'd never seen how his rare smiles transformed him into a thing of beauty. They'd never listened to him laugh with Maggie over a silly book.

In short, none of those people were in love with Iain Morgan, and for that, Charlie was devoutly thankful. 

He was just as thankful that Iain felt safe enough to sleep with him awake next to him. Suddenly, all Charlie wanted was to let the man rest. He'd just come back from a short but trying assignment in the Middle East, and it was 6:28. Charlie smiled and slipped oh-so-carefully from the bed, turning off the baby monitor and pulling on pyjama bottoms and a tee shirt before padding down the hall just in time to find his daughter opening her eyes, all muzzy and with her curls sticking out at the same crazy angles as her father's. 

Charlie changed her, then went downstairs so that they could play without disturbing Iain. When Maggie asked where Een was, Charlie just grinned and said he was very, very tired and having a lie-in. She formed attachments as quickly as her father, apparently, and hopefully for the best in this case. 

An hour flew by with their morning rituals of iPad time, breakfast, and playing maths games. When there was a knock at the door, Charlie didn't feel nearly so paranoid as he did the last time it happened--this place was protected by Kingsman, and the cordon wouldn't have let anyone dangerous through. Maggie toddled along behind him as he opened the door, and froze. 

Don Eppes stood there, in the flesh, all swaggering confidence in a button-up and jacket and jeans. "Hey, baby brother. Aren't you going to let me in?"

Charlie swallowed hard to find his voice, and when he did he didn't speak to Don. He turned to Maggie. "Maggie, please go into the living room and play with Nanda. I'll be there in a few minutes." There was something about her father's voice, because she just nodded solemnly and left. He turned to Don again, clutching the edge of the door frame in a white-knuckled grip. 

"Wow, has she grown up or what? Well, are you going to let me in? I've come a long way, baby brother, and I had to do some not-so-nice things to find you." Don leaned against the threshold, then pushed his way in, subtly enough that it wouldn't look like he was forcing anything to the eyes on the streets. "You went and got yourself some powerful friends, didn't you?" When he managed to shut the door behind him, it took the pause button off of Charlie's frozen body.

He stepped in front of the path between the front door and the living room, and all he could think was that he had to keep Don away from Maggie. He'd almost completely forgotten his Kingsman agent boyfriend asleep upstairs. "Stop. This is my home, and you are not welcome. I told you, I never want to speak to you again."

"Yeah, I seem to remember it moving its lips and some words coming out, but I don't pay attention to slaves." Don moved like a viper, backhanding Charlie viciously across his jaw and sending him sprawling. He didn't even cry out. "It knows its words are like dogs barking to me, nothing but an annoyance."

Charlie put a hand over his face, wondering how he'd come to forget what it was like to be manhandled like a recalcitrant piece of furniture that won't go around the bend in a staircase. "You. Have. To. Go." He gritted his teeth, stood, and planted himself more firmly. 

"Yes, he certainly must." The voice came from behind Charlie, and Charlie had never been so glad to hear it in his life. Iain was decently clad in pyjamas and one of Charlie's plain black tee shirts. His hair was tamed, and he moved with a calm, efficient grace that spoke of utter confidence. "It is well past time you left this house, Agent Eppes."

"Oh my god. You found another Master, didn't you, you filthy little whore? Who the fuck do you think you are, laying hands on my property?" Don balled one hand into a fist, menace radiating out of his compact body. 

"Don't answer him, Charlie. Go into the sitting room with Maggie and wait for me there." There was no brooking argument with that tone, and it was just what Charlie needed to hear. He was safe. Iain was here, and Iain would handle it. He ducked his head to show assent, then left the room. 

**

_What an execrable bully._ was the first thought to come into Iain's head. The second was _I mustn't underestimate him._ He was a trained counter-terrorism operative, after all. FBI-trained, but still. "Yes. I am Charlie's Master, now, and I want you nowhere near him. Leave this house, or I will put you out of it."

Don laughed. "You? What are you going to do, bore me out of here? I just came back for what's mine. You can't possibly be too attached to him, yet."

"Everything you say is irrelevant. I will ask you once more to leave this house, and never return. I would prefer we conduct this matter like grown men, but if you must start a fight in the house where your niece is just a room away, rest assured that I will win." He didn't say it with braggadocio, it was a simple declaration. 

Don responded with a tightly focused punch that Iain simply side-stepped, gripping the arm as it sailed past his head and using the momentum to pull Don right into the doorframe with a satisfying thunk. Don shook off the blow quickly and went into a low fighting crouch. 

Clearly, Iain wasn't as boring as Don had thought.

The next two blows were parried, and then Iain frankly grew tired of this nonsense. Quick as a cobra, he grabbed Don by the leg, swept it out from under him, then turned the man's body in a sweeping arc that he counterbalanced and powered by flipping over him in a manner that told gravity to politely go fuck itself. The end result was Don, face down on the foyer floor, with Iain's knee wedged into the back of his neck. 

"I trust you're quite finished," he murmured, not even winded. At Don's half-hearted nod, Iain got a good grip on the man's wrist and hauled him painfully to his feet. "Open the door." Don did so, and Iain shoved him out, filling the doorway to keep him from charging back inside. 

"You prick, I swear to god, one day when you're not hanging around here..." Don spat at Iain's feet. Really, the manners.

"You'll do nothing of the sort. Now Charlie's security detail knows who you are, and you'll not get within half a mile of him. If you try, I will be forced to deal with you more permanently." Iain didn't wait for an answer, he simply closed and bolted the door, then pulled his phone out of his pocket and texted instructions to the detail about Don Eppes and his allowed proximity to his brother, which was precisely none. 

That accomplished, he went into the sitting room to check on his charges. Charlie was holding Maggie even though Maggie clearly wasn't in the mood for cuddling, and tears were running down his face. Iain knelt down and smiled gently at Charlie. "I think she'd like to go play. It's safe now." 

Charlie released his death grip on his daughter, and she flounced off to play with her toys. Iain leaned in and used his thumbs to wipe away the tears, then pulled Charlie right into his arms. "He's gone, my love. He will never darken your door again, I swear it to you."

The smaller body shivered, and Iain could see the start of a slight bruise where Don had cuffed his little brother. "I'm sorry, Iain, I couldn't...I didn't know what to do...and then he hit me and I felt like I was back there again..." 

"That's just what he intended, sweetheart. He wanted to bring it all back for you, hoping that you would just fold. But you didn't. You stayed strong for Maggie." Ian stroked the wild curls he loved so much, knowing it would calm Charlie.

"And you fought him off. You literally fought off my demons." Charlie sounded in awe of his lover. "Do you know how much that makes me want to crawl for you and kiss your feet?" The last was whispered low into Iain's ear, and went right to his balls.

"I think that it's high time we had The Talk, is what I think." The Talk--not dreaded, just needed, and just time-consuming. They were finally at a point where it felt right to negotiate terms, where honesty and trust were as natural as breathing. 

"And then I can crawl for you?" Charlie murmured, moving back, his eyes alight with mischief and hunger. "Or is that one of your hard no's?" 

"Oh god, it most assuredly isn't. Now stop--we can't even snog properly until Maggie's naptime." Much less work in a quickie. "Let's make some breakfast--I'm starving."

**  
Charlie closed Maggie's door with the gingerness familiar to all parents who desperately hope their children will sleep through the night. She'd had a busy day, after all. In the afternoon, Iain took her to the park for hours, complete with a miniature picnic of snacks, so that Charlie could have some time to work on his side projects. It had been all they could do to keep her awake through dinner and bath, and hopefully they'd have the night to...Talk. And to do the things to that come after talking. 

One thing this day had taught him was that he'd become thoroughly accustomed to Iain in their lives, and he didn't want to lose that, ever. But was that so bad? Was it so very weak? He knew he was in love with Iain, and Iain was in love with him, and wasn't that how this love thing worked? 

If you were very lucky, maybe, this was exactly how it worked. 

Charlie came down the stairs slowly, not because he was afraid of the Talk, but because he was lost in thought himself. Iain was waiting in the tidied sitting room, and had left plenty of space for Charlie to curl up beside him on the sofa. It looked like home, and Charlie smiled as he sat down and pulled his feet up underneath him, facing his lover.

"So." Charlie smiled a little more broadly and blushed a little. 

"So." Iain agreed, reaching out to stroke the backs of his fingers over Charlie's cheek. "You ready, my darling? Do you know what to expect?"

"You're going to tell me what you want from me...and I'm supposed to tell you what I want from you." Charlie knew in theory, he'd read about this sort of thing online, but no one had ever asked him anything besides checking a few yes/no boxes at the clubs. 

"It's so much more than that." Iain withdrew his fingers from Charlie's face, and used them to take one of his hands instead. "The most important part of this, the absolutely most important part, is that you be honest with me, even if, or especially if, you think I won't like the answer. I will not ever be upset with you for being honest with me. Do you understand that?"

Charlie nodded and clutched at Iain's hand a little harder. "That's not going to be easy. Not that I would lie, but...I'm not used to risking displeasing Master."

"I know, sweet boy. That's why the next thing I have to say is that I am desperately, ridiculously, deeply in love with you. There is nothing you could say or do that would drive me from you, not in this. I think we know there's pain and then there's anguish, and I would never, ever want to cause you the latter." Iain lifted Charlie's hand and kissed the knuckles. 

"You're...I love you, too. I was just thinking that I already can't imagine our lives without you in them." Charlie bit his lip. "And yeah, I get that distinction, really well. I will be completely honest."

"I want you to get used to me, because I'm not going anywhere." Iain's eyes lit up, and there were all those pretty colours, the ones that turned him beautiful. 

"If we're being honest, I very much want you to fuck me right here and now." Charlie leaned in, nuzzling his lips along Iain's jaw.

"Oh, god...but if we did that, then you wouldn't know what's in the bag I brought over last night." His other hand caught Charlie gently by the hair and brought him in for a slow, deep kiss. 

"I was sort of hoping that was something for us." Charlie took a deep breath to get his libido back under control, and he moved out of kissing distance. "How do we start?"

"We already have. In fact, I'll go first. I would do a great many things to bring you pleasure, my love. Almost anything. But I won't leave marks beyond bruises unless we discuss it before the scene. And I cannot, I simply cannot, tolerate dehumanising you. You are my beautiful boy, and you are not 'this slave' or 'this one' or 'it.'" 

"I don't want that. This morning, Don called me it. 'It moved its mouth and words came out.' I am not an it." Those words escaped him with far more emotional force than Charlie had intended. 

"No, you're most assuredly not. You are my beloved, and you are a brilliant, beautiful man. So no dehumanising you. Another thing I cannot do is indulge any forceful rape fantasies. I can see ways that we could construct non-consensual or dubiously-consensual fantasies that would work, but I cannot even pretend to hurt you like that. I think that's also one of your hard stops as well." One of the only, the only, one that Charlie had articulated. Iain was starting off with soft topics, ones that would be easy for Charlie to agree to.

"No, I agree. I haven't done any role-playing at all, but I'm not entertaining any rape fantasies."

"Oh, no role-playing...we'll have to change that. It can be quite delicious. I can't wait to show you." Because Iain did have his own kinks beyond just causing consensual pain, after all. "One thing that worries me, though--I can't trust you with a safeword for physical pain, can I?" It wasn't said accusingly, but with a gentle nudge.

"No. I have a ridiculously high pain threshold, and sometimes I go so deep I don't even know I've been seriously injured. That's what happened with my hip. Not that Don would have cared particularly, but I wasn't even aware until I came back to him resetting the joint." Something like that should have only been done in hospital, but there was no point in dwelling on that fact. 

"Very well...I know your body, soon I'll know your sounds and your skin and your signals, and I will watch them very, very carefully. Do you trust me to do that? And maybe someday we'll be able to have a safeword?"

Charlie nodded, chewing on his lip again. "I trust you completely." 

Iain paused at that, kissed Charlie's hand again and rubbed it against his cheek. "My beautiful Charlie. What worries me more, however, is your mental state in scene. I love you, but I cannot read your mind. May we practice a simple green-yellow-red system? I ask you your colour, and you give me one if you can?" 

Charlie actually gave that some thought. "You've never put me under before. You'll see how far I go, because I have to trust that you'll reel me back in. I promise I'll try my best to answer with a colour instead of 'Yes, Master' or 'Please, Master'." 

"I can't ask for anything more than that you try. With time and trust and experience, you may find it a great deal easier." Iain was shifting on the couch, crossing his legs against the erection he got every time he thought about scening with Charlie, and watching him fly. "One thing I've given a lot of thought to is Maggie." 

Charlie blinked, obviously unprepared to talk about his daughter in the middle of a talk about sex. "What about her?" Obviously all the toys stay under lock and key and they have to watch their volume, but beyond that...

"What happens if she wakes up when we're in scene and you are far under? Jolting you out is dangerous for your mental health and will take minutes even so." Iain took a deep breath. "Here's where I'm going to ask you to really, truly trust me. If the baby monitor goes off while we're in scene, I'll suspend it, keep you under, and I'll go tend to her. She should accept me now. I'll put her back to sleep, and you will wait for me like the very good boy you are. Of course, if it's serious--she's ill or what have you--I'll have you out in no time to help me deal with it." For garden variety nighttime fussiness, which she thankfully had little of, he would handle it.

"That's a lot to put on you," was Charlie's answer. "That's a lot like...parenting." It was a smart way to handle what might be an inevitable situation.

"I love her, too, you know. It feels...natural." Iain waited for Charlie to process, just stroking his thumb over the backs of Charlie's knuckles. 

"All right. Just promise me that if she's not satisfied with you, you'll come get me." 

"I promise. But I swear to you, I can fetch a sippy cup of water or sing a lullaby as well as the next bloke." He smiled, teasing, and Charlie answered it.

"Better than me, with the singing. You have a nice voice, and you know all those Welsh songs." When Iain forgot to talk like a gentleman, the Welsh tended to come out.

"All right, so we have that settled." Iain leaned in to kiss Charlie, but only briefly. "I only have a few more things, then I want you to talk. Firstly, are you afraid of needles?"

"Needles?" Charlie's mind spun in circles that mostly ended in 'yes, please.' "No, not afraid. Intrigued."

"That's my good boy. I am very imaginative when it comes to scenes. You'll get used to that. Next, your shoulders. I won't be binding you to anything that stretches your arms over your head. Once shoulders dislocate, it's very easy for them to do so again, and that I will not have. We'll have to test out a St. Andrew's Cross to see how that works, but that's as far above your head as I think we should go." 

"You have a St. Andrew's Cross lying around?" Charlie raised an eyebrow.

"No...and here comes the last question, and again, be honest. I belong to a club. I haven't been since..." Iain was actually blushing. "I stopped going when you came for the job interview. You were all I could think about." 

"A club...I'm guessing it's very posh." Charlie thought it was unbearably sweet that even when their relationship hadn't reached the zygote stage, Iain was already swearing off hurting anyone else. "And very well-equipped."

"And it can be as private or as public as we wish it to be. Once in a while, for particular scenes, do you think you could let me show off what a beautiful, perfect boy I have?" The heated look that Iain laid on him practically radiated desire, and Charlie felt his gut clench in response. 

"I don't think I'm beautiful, Iain. You might not get the admiration." 

"I don't want their admiration. Trust me, what I'll have by the end of the evening is their utter jealousy. They will **covet** you, and you are **mine**." Oh, how he wanted to believe Iain's words, because the thought of kneeling naked at his feet with other Masters and slaves sounded appealing in ways he'd never even imagined. 

"Covet, huh?" Charlie had to laugh a little. "Just one thing--no one else touches me. Ever again. I was serious about that." 

"And I'm serious when I say that I will never touch another. I am not one of those fools who finds perfection and then squanders it. I treasure you. I want to spend lifetimes knowing you inside and out, every noise, every twist of the way that beautiful mind works, everything." Iain looked faintly embarrassed, like perhaps he hadn't meant all that to come out.

"Iain...I'm yours. Take me anywhere you like. I want to try it." What's more, Charlie wanted to just answer Iain's words with the logical response--'Yes, I'll marry you.' But that wasn't what was asked. "So it's my turn now? This is going to be a lot shorter." 

"Just talk. I'm listening." Of course he was. He hung on Charlie's every word.

"You already know about the dry-fucking thing. And I agree with you on the rape--I've been raped, and it's not something to do for fun." Iain looked murderous. He very much wished he could have just killed Don that morning. "I do like a little bit of humiliation. Do you think you could get on board with calling me your slut, your whore, your bitch..." He squirmed a little, and that was such an enticing vision that Iain nodded.

"I think that would be all right. I just won't make you into a thing that I'm using." 

"What if I want to be a hole for you to fuck?" Charlie murmured, leaning in to whisper the words into Iain's ear. 

"Jesus, I think you can have anything you want if you talk like that." He took Charlie's hand and pressed it to his erection for a long moment, but it wasn't like the contact was soothing anything. "And...I think that would fall under role-playing. I wouldn't think that was true, but it would be part of the scene. Mmm, like...rent boy."

"Oh god...yeah, now I see the appeal of role-playing. Or maybe..." He uncurled his hand so he could stroke Iain through his trousers. "I could be really, really hot for the headmaster." 

"Does someone need a good caning?" Iain's hips rode up at the image of Charlie in a school uniform, bent over a desk. Luckily, the club could accommodate almost any fantasy and that was a common enough one. Common, maybe, but hot as hell. 

"Until I can't sit for a week." Charlie's thumb found the head of Iain's prick and rubbed just beneath. "God, can we...finish this talk because I'm going out of my mind, Master." 

Iain gripped Charlie's wrist firmly and pulled it from his cock. "That depends. Are you quite finished telling me what your hard stops are?"

"Yes, but...I do have more questions." Ones that are more pressing than his need to get naked and on his knees **now**. "Like my back. What do we do about it? It's just...a mess. I want you to leave your marks."

Iain swallowed down against his own arousal. "Oh, I'll leave my marks, sweetheart, never you fear. When we're ready, we'll talk about it before we do anything permanent. As far as your back is concerned--I'll use mostly floggers. Soft, probably deer skin. Thudding, burning pain, not sharp. No risk of splitting the skin. When I go for something sharper, like a single-tail, rest assured that my aim is exceedingly precise, and my control is superb. If I decide to open the skin on your back, you will not require stitches, and you will not have new scars." Charlie knew that his skin actually was very hard to scar, which made the mess of it all even more horrible. Don had to really work for it. 

"I know this sounds ridiculous, but I still wish I was a blank canvas for you. That you didn't have to be so careful with me." 

"Don't. Don't think like that, please. Didn't you feel how hard you made me, just from a few well-chosen words? You're too perfect a slave, and I see nothing in you but possibilities." Iain cupped Charlie's face and brought their foreheads together. "And be assured, I will explore them, because it is my right." 

"Because you're my Master," came the softest of whispers, Charlie's eyes casting down, long dark lashes fanning along his cheeks. 

"Because I am your Master." It was setting a seal, as clear as a brand. "Go upstairs to our bedroom, strip naked, and kneel in front of the bed, wrists crossed behind your back, eyes down."

Charlie shivered, a spasm that went from the crown of his head to his suddenly clenching toes. "Yes, Master." He withdrew himself from Iain's grasp gracefully and slipped from the couch, aware of Iain's eyes on his body as he ascended the stairs. Logically, he knew that Iain was heightening the anticipation, which was already at an almost painful level, and that he needed time to fetch that mysterious bag from the top of the hall closet. 

Once in the bedroom, he removed his clothes, folding them and laying them aside carefully, not making a mess. When he got into position, settled on his knees on the rug, wrists crossed behind his back, he cast his eyes down and all he could see was how desperately, achingly aroused he was. 

The span of time that followed was likely no more than five minutes, but it felt like hours. Charlie could feel the hunger settling in the pit of his belly, knew it would be his constant companion until Master allowed him release. It was so comforting, knowing that it was Iain's even, soft footsteps he heard on the stairs, knowing that he was safe. Safe, and loved, and his fractious, anxious, supremely mathematical mind started to blank out into a simpler reality without Iain even laying a hand on him. 

"There's my good boy," Iain murmured, padding barefoot into the bedroom and setting the bag down just within Charlie's line of sight. "Hold your position." The older man began to strip down to his trousers, letting his braces hang down to each side. There was something almost scandalously attractive about that, the slim bands of leather and elastic marking him as Master in some way Charlie couldn't quite put his finger on. 

"Look how beautiful you are, sweet one." Iain prowled over and gripped Charlie's chin firmly, raising his eyes up to meet his own. The banked hunger and naked, unabashed worshipfulness was like a kick in the gut. Pure lust. "You've been so eager to crawl for me."

"Yes, Master." Charlie could barely find his voice, or his breath. 

"Crawl onto the bed and kneel in the center, hands at your sides, thighs slightly spread." Iain stepped back to watch, so Charlie made damned sure he gave Master a show, dropping to hands and knees and crawling, catlike, across the floor. Somehow he passed Master's feet without rubbing his face against them, and he could almost feel Master smiling at his visible restraint.

Once on the bed, he knelt as instructed, hands loose at his sides, thighs parted but not far enough to throw him off balance. Iain perched in front of him, loops of heavy, black leather in his hands. He set the bigger loops down and buckled a reassuringly weighty ringed cuff around each slim wrist. Charlie felt like sagging with the sheer relief of it, of feeling that weight, that control. 

Iain hooked a finger into each ring and tugged Charlie carefully forward for a long, filthy kiss that left the younger man shuddering and mewling. “My beautiful boy,” Iain whispered, parting from that sinful mouth and buckling a similar thick strap around each upper thigh. He backs of his fingers continually brushed at Charlie’s balls, making him shiver, and when he was done, he hooked the wrist restraints to Charlie’s thighs. It was a very effective way of binding him without stretching his shoulders, and oh dear god the picture it painted was scandalous. 

Iain breathed deeply and shook his head, as if reminding himself that no, he couldn’t just fuck his boy yet. They’d not even properly started. “Lie down with your head toward the top of the bed,” he said softly, helping Charlie into position since it was a bit challenging given his current bonds. The straps held his thighs wide open, and Iain left him there, shivering and panting a little, to fetch something else from the bag. 

The next thing Charlie felt, though, was Iain’s tongue at his tight little hole, laving over nerve endings and then pushing inside to taste and to tease and to open. He used his thumbs to hold the ring of muscles open, and to Charlie it felt like the most delicious torture. All he wanted was to be filled at this point, the day’s continual teasing taking its toll. “Nnn…Master…” he whined softly.

“Mmm, come now, sweet boy. You don’t think you’ll be getting fucked this quickly, do you?” Iain’s voice was teasing, dark and steely and sexy as hell. He pressed inside again, this time with two lubed fingers. They weren’t enough, of course, but they were something.

“Thank you, Master,” Charlie groaned, squeezing and releasing around those fingers. 

“Surely two fingers aren’t enough for this greedy little hole,” Iain observed, watching the muscles spasm. He added a third, but only for a moment, just to make sure. Just when the emptiness felt unbearable, Iain pressed forward with the bulbous tip of a curved plug. The head of it stretched him open, then came naturally to rest right against his prostate.

Charlie’s back arched and he cried out, blinking his eyes and trying to breathe and not come immediately. He would not disappoint Master by coming like a little whore for the first toy to get pushed into his arse. “M…Master…” 

“I know, sweet boy. And look at you, trying so hard for me.” Iain grinned wickedly and laved his tongue from the root of Charlie’s cock to the tip, swirling and suckling for the briefest moment while Charlie shook and his balls drew up tight. 

His whole world was body and his Master, and he knew again what it felt like to be owned. He knew what it all felt like when there was love underpinning everything, giving the scene a floor he couldn’t drop below and leaving nothing but open sky above. 

“Anything for you, Master,” Charlie breathed, but he was already half-way to the moon. He clenched his arse around the plug and shuddered again, precome forming a pool on his belly. 

“Don’t you look beautiful,” Iain murmured, gathering precome on his fingertips and feeding it to Charlie, who gratefully suckled at it. “Time to see just how good a boy you can be for me.” There was rustling as one more thing was retrieved from the bag, but Iain made sure to keep one hand on Charlie the whole time. He maneuvered into a position where his back was against the headboard, and Charlie was arse-up on his lap. The position left him utterly exposed, the flanged base of the dildo moving every time he flexed his muscles, driving the tip of the plug into his sweet spot. 

“You may allow the plug to give you as many dry prostate orgasms as your body will allow, but you may not ejaculate until my cock is what’s filling you up. Do you understand, sweet boy?” It was a fine line he was telling Charlie to walk, but he had faith in his boy. His hand caressed the rounded flesh of Charlie’s arse, slapping it lightly and getting the feel of the flesh and skin and muscle. 

“Y…yes, Master.” Charlie understood all right, but active pleasure and active pain at the same time were not what he was used to. In fact, actively pleasuring wasn’t really something he was used to, either, except when he was having sex with Iain. 

“Good.” With the first hard spank from Iain’s hand, Charlie understood how pleasure itself could form the most exquisite pain. His eyes rolled back in his head and he whimpered softly, raising his arse as much as he could toward the next slap. Iain didn’t take it easy—Charlie wouldn’t have stood for it—and his hand was hard and the blows were strong. It was instinct to put the other hand in Charlie’s hair, to fist the curls and tighten them against his boy’s scalp. 

Charlie was already gone by that point, flying, the only connection to the world the sensations in his body and the knowledge that he must not, under any circumstances, come. Iain was apparently indefatigable, and his hard cock, still trapped in lightweight wool trousers, was pressing insistently into Charlie’s hip. Finally the blows slowed and stopped, and he rubbed the reddened flesh and pinched hard. “You are my perfect, beautiful boy,” he whispered, sure that his lover would hear, no matter how far away. From the smile, he knew he was right. 

The break couldn’t last for long, and the next blow came not from Iain’s hand but from a wicked leather-covered paddle. Charlie moaned as the forceful slap of leather on flesh drove the plug harder against him, sent him deeper still into subspace. The roiling pleasure inside his arse warred with stinging, burning pain on the outside until he just flew to pieces. 

Iain knew his love was thoroughly under, and yet he made very sure to keep up a soft litany of praise about what a good boy he was, how lovely he was, how much Iain wanted him. None of this sweetness made him go even one hair gentler on the paddle, and he didn’t stop until the red started turning to white. No, his boy wouldn’t be doing much sitting tomorrow. He stroked over the inflamed flesh, pinching, slapping by hand a few times, jostling the plug inside Charlie. 

Finally, his own resolve broke and he couldn’t stand one more moment without being buried balls-deep in all that heat. Iain rolled Charlie onto his back and slid up between his thighs, unzipping his flies and pulling out his cock even as he removed the plug. “This is me in you, my Charlie. This is me,” he whispered in Charlie’s ear as he pushed home. “And you’re going to come for me now.”

Charlie’s whole body went rigid then twisted, pulling against his restraints and crying out desperately as he spent himself until he thought he might die from it, turning himself inside out for his Master. Once the last spasm passed, it only took half a dozen thrusts for Iain to follow him down and fill him up. Even as far gone as Charlie was, he still moaned at the feeling against his over-sensitive prostate. 

Iain hit the quick releases on the cuffs and curled Charlie up into his arms, stroking his hair and back and nuzzling his temple. “Come on, sweetheart. It’s time to come home to me.” It took long, long minutes before Charlie opened his eyes and blinked owlishly at Iain. 

“Wow.” And then, “Did I do all right?”

“I can’t imagine a more beautiful submissive. How are you feeling?”

“My ass hurts. In the best possible way, of course.” His voice was hoarse from moaning and crying out, but it was the sweetest sound Iain had ever heard. “And I feel…good. Really good. Right. Like…everything’s lined up for the first time.” 

“Speaking of that arse, I’m going to go get an ice pack or two or you’ll have some blisters tomorrow. Will you be okay until I get back?” Iain kissed Charlie slowly before he let him answer. 

“Mmhmm. I’ll just lie here and…try not to float away.” Charlie smiled and turned onto his belly, hugging Iain’s pillow while Iain ran the quick errand, one that also included ibuprofen and a glass of water. Before putting on the ice packs, Iain had Charlie take the pills and drink all the water. Somehow they got into a position with the ice packs in place, and the covers pulled up, and Charlie lying on top of Iain. 

“So that’s…what a scene should feel like.” Charlie was still riding high on endorphins, dreamily chatty, obsessing himself with playing with Iain’s nipples since they were just right there. 

“I hope so. I think so.” Iain bit his lip and wriggled his hips a little—his nipples were very sensitive. “I think you know now that I can go hard on you and still love you with all my heart.” 

Charlie blushed. “You definitely didn’t take it easy, but it was never more than I could handle. And…I love you, too.” He latched onto a nipple and suckled at it lazily, fingers teasing the other. For a long span of minutes, Iain just let it happen, let his own arousal spiral back up. After a while, he took the ice packs off for a few minutes, and Charlie looked up at him. “Oh good. Now I can suck your cock.” 

Iain had to laugh, but damned if he was saying ‘no’ to Charlie’s mouth. He slid the quilts down and his cock slapped back against his belly. “Considering you’ve been torturing me for almost half an hour, I think it’s only fair,” he teased. 

Said mouth slid downward, Charlie moving a little gingerly as he settled himself curled around Iain’s hips. The foreskin was completely pulled back from the dark head, and Iain groaned when Charlie gripped the base and swallowed him down to the root. Charlie echoed that groan, and set a steady, sucking rhythm. No teasing now, no games, just him pleasuring his lover. And oh did he love to suck Iain’s dick. The noises, the shifting hips, the hand in his hair, the way he never got rough even if he grew impassioned—it was addictive. 

A tight throat swallowing around his cock one too many times was all that Iain could take. He cried out Charlie’s name softly and bucked his hips, as Charlie moved up immediately to catch the seed on his tongue. When Iain was thoroughly finished, Charlie savoured the taste, then moved back up to crook of Iain’s arm to kiss him and share. “See how good you taste?” he whispered against Iain’s lips.

“You taste better.” Iain was getting drowsy, but even so he insisted Charlie put the ice packs back on. 

“Well, we’re not holding a taste test anytime soon,” Charlie teased. “Because you are mine.” 

“Too right. C’mere and settle down. This old man needs his sleep.” Iain smiled sleepily and let Charlie settle once more into the crook of his arm.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for staying with me--I know this crossover is pretty out there!


End file.
